


the kingdom of heaven

by peachtipple



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Drug Use, Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Gangs, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Priest AU, Priests, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slow Burn, Undercover, Versatile Gavin Reed/Upgraded Connor|RK900
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-07-13 05:22:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 26,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16011140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachtipple/pseuds/peachtipple
Summary: Connor lives in the protective shell forced around him by his mother for his entire life. Niles just wants to escape from her. Hank is the new parish priest with ghosts from his past he cannot bring himself to exorcise. Gavin is on his own road to freedom but he can't help but look back. And perhaps, they all hold the key to each other's shackles.





	1. The Books of Connor

**Author's Note:**

> Updates every one or two weeks, mainly Wednesdays and Sindays. \o/

> “He read from it before the square which was in front of the Water Gate from early morning until midday, in the presence of men and women, those who could understand; and all the people were attentive to the book of the law.”
> 
> - **Nehemiah 8:3**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work has symbols and connotations of Christianity turned into explicit situations. I'm not sure if this should be tagged under priest kink or whatever but one thing for sure- it's blasphemous and highly critical of the church. So if such works offend you or you do not feel comfortable reading sexual situations in sacred spaces and situations, you might want to stop reading now.


	2. Eucharist

“The body of Christ.”

His blue eyes were staring intently at Connor’s, his gaze strong and powerful enough to capture the younger male in a trance where he could not tear his sight away from them. He was aware that he had uttered words but in that moment, all he could make out was the low tone, the almost whisper-like manner he spoke them in. He wasn’t sure what he said but what he was certain about was how the way the sound of his voice reverberated through him, glueing him to the spot, frozen and unable to move or think coherently. He derived pleasure from hearing the older man’s voice in the same manner one would from their lover as they whispered sweet nothings against their ear, with a husky voice and heated breathing, sending shivers down the recipient’s spine. He wasn’t fully aware of how he was gawking at his clean-shaven face and neatly trimmed chin length hair. The brunet wanted to touch his silver locks, run his hands through them and gather a fistful for leverage as he pulled himself up against his broad chest. Connor could spend hours just staring at his facial features, the furrow of his brow, the sheer wrinkles around his eyes and forehead and the fullness of his lips, although not as red and pouty as his own.However, he only had a mere second for his eyes to revel at the sight before him in their current situation and he was pulled out of his infatuated stupor with the sound of the other male clearing his throat on the count of the third second. Connor felt the heat creep up his neck as the man standing in front of him gave him an encouraging nod, waiting for him to speak.

What did he have to say again?

If he could, he would tell him about the real reason he was there, why he stopped trying to skip mass when his mother started to forcefully drag him along with her. She said she wanted to be ‘a better mother’ who followed ‘proper values’. The first couple of times, he managed to weasel out of going but when he ran out of believable excuses, he ended up with no choice but to be taken to church. And he would tell him, how the second he laid eyes on him, his heart beat painfully against his chest and he felt sick to the stomach with emotions he couldn’t comprehend. It was later, when he was alone in bed with his hand down his too tight briefs that he realised that he had grown attracted towards him. It wasn’t the first time that he had he found himself interested for a man but this was the first time it was of this caliber- an attraction that eventually developed into a fixation that brought him to the large, Gothic cathedral every other day.

But for the time being, he replied with the previously rehearsed word “Amen” and parted his lips to receive the sacramental bread. At the back of his head, he knew he’d rather be opening his mouth for other reasons, place his palms facing upwards beneath his chin to catch spillage from something else that was aimed to fill the wet orifice rather than the stray crumbs from the dried and flattened mixture of flour and water. These thoughts only aggravated his flushed state, especially in combination with the host being pressed against his lower lip and tongue while he pictured it as something else. He retracted the muscle back to envelop the thin white sacrament fully in his mouth and for the briefest moment, he felt the tip of the other man’s nail and the dry skin of his thumb come in contact with his damp lip. The redness on his neck rose, ascending to his cheeks at an alarming rate as thoughts of having the man’s fingers in his mouth flood his mind. As quickly as he stepped in front of him and the altar, he dropped his head down and scurried back towards his seat. In all, the interaction had taken a measly six seconds, two more than the common four and it was enough to give the touch starved twenty two year old a hard-on in his dark, denim trousers.

And as he sat down on the uncomfortable wooden bench for the textbook coined moment of “reflection and gratitude”, he did indeed give thought to what he’d be praying about that night, before going to bed.


	3. Sanctification

At seventeen, Connor was different from other boys. While his younger brother, started to ‘flourish into a man’ -as their mother would say- at the age of twelve, Connor went through puberty at an older age. So while he stumbled through his seventeenth year with his short and skinny figure and high pitched voice, Niles was already towering over him, with broad shoulders and a fit body from his earlier muscle development and working out. His voice had already cracked and reached a lower tone which Connor was reminded of on nights when their mother wasn’t home through the paper thin walls separating their bedrooms as Niles experimented with the newly developed areas of his body. And when he hit eighteen, less than a year after Connor, his experiments became partner projects with his male friends and classmates. These nighttime visits became more often, even on nights when their mother was home and thus, the sneaking in and out began as she didn’t allow her sons to go on sleepovers. She was obsessive about not allowing people into the house either, even those regarded as her’s sons’ friends or simply her work colleagues and although never fully confirmed, Connor was sure this neurosis developed after their father’s departure from their life. He had heard the fighting after all, huddled with Niles at their old home when they still shared the same room at the tender ages of five and six. When they first asked their mother to go on play dates with their friends, she forbade them unless she was the one supervising. The first and only time they had friends over for the night, she demanded to stay in the same room as them as they slept. When they asked her why, she only replied with, “Because they’ll steal you away from me too” and for a numerous amount of years, this reasoning went unquestioned and undoubted. The only time she wasn’t with them is during school hours and when they’re home alone because of her nursing job. But again, they cannot leave the house and they cannot let anybody in.

Connor got his first hard-on when he almost nineteen years of age. He was expecting it as he had started to see physical changes in the months leading up to it but he didn’t expect it to go the way it did. He wasn’t naive- he knew what his brother was doing with his ever-changing boyfriends at night, however, he didn’t think much about it nor did he think much about where his attraction laid.

It was the start of a new college semester. When relocating after their father left, their mother made sure they moved close to such a school institution so her sons could attend and keep living with her. Connor didn’t mind, it saved on solo living expenses after all. He was attending one of the unit classes for his Criminology modules and through the sheer boredom of the introductory lesson, he inadvertently focused his attention on their lecturer’s appearance rather than speech. He was a man in his late forties, judging from the grey tufts in his black hair and the scruffy salt and pepper facial hair. He had wide shoulders with a dark button-up shirt, fitted with tension around the underarm and buttons areas due to the tight fit. Charcoal coloured trousers were stretched over his long legs and sleek, black shoes covered his feet. When he turned around to point at the screen behind him, the brunet’s gaze kept falling down to the curve of his ass, accentuated by the specific fit of his pants. His eyes became fixed to his toned arms when he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and in a matter of minutes, he started picturing himself being grabbed by those same strong arms. He imagined himself bent over his desk and getting screwed against it. Heat had coiled down towards his lower abdomen and it was pleasurable until he felt a wet patch form in the front of his jeans. He had never been so relieved to hear the bell ring and after tying his hoodie around his hips to hide the damage, he made a bee-line towards the bathroom and stayed there until classes were over. The next day, he dropped out of that particular unit.

“Hey.”

Connor was interrupted from his thoughts at the sight of cool blue eyes hovering above him as he laid in his bed. But they were lighter and colder than the ones that had enthralled him that evening at mass **.**

“Niles?”

The taller of the pair pressed a finger up against his own lips to signal silence.

“I need to get some things before heading back out,” he whispers softly in a tone Connor knew all too well. In fact, he didn’t even need to say the words out loud for his younger brother to know exactly what he needed and wanted him to do. He was aware of it the second he felt his presence in his bedroom.

He gave him a nod, rolling off his bed and getting up as the two of them quietly as ever made their way towards the corridor on their socked feet. Connor took his position outside the bathroom, preparing his distraction speech in his head just in case their mother got up as Niles slipped into his bedroom.

Not more than five undisturbed minutes later, Niles was next to Connor once more with a full duffel bag slung over one of his shoulders. He smiled at him, the thankful smile he reserved just for him for these situations. The pale moonlight shone through a slit in the closed curtains over one of the windows of the corridor and Connor could make out the dark blue shade his brother had dyed his hair without their mother’s knowing consent. But despite the colour, one could easily still mistake them as twins as much as everyone did when meeting them for the first time.

Niles placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze before taking it off and as he slipped back into the darkness of the house, it was enough for Connor to know what was going on through his brother’s head.


	4. Grace

Connor looked down at the food on the paper plate on his lap. He poked at the charred sausages, turning them over in the otherwise empty plate sans for some cold, soggy fries. One of the pieces of the burnt meat fell off the edge of the plate and onto the paved ground below before rolling away to be stepped on by some unknowing attendee. The brunet sighed, peering at the unappetising food once more before giving up on it and simply putting it away on a nearby table within reach of the rickety fold out chair he was sitting on to be discarded later.

In retrospect, it was his idea to go to the church’s fundraising barbecue. It was a simple event in the courtyard behind the church. “I think it would be a nice family bonding experience,” he pitched that morning. Expressing the notion to his mother filled her with delight, certain that she had accomplished her goal of moulding her child into a poster Christian boy. Connor almost felt guilty, knowing that the real drive behind his suggestion was not because he wanted to spend more time with his controlling mother. No, the reason was that he was simply desperate to spend more time staring longingly at Father Anderson. He finally had a name for him, found at the bottom of one of the articles in the weekly church newsletter they got in the mail- next to a small headshot. It was a given for him to cut that particular page out and keep it for safekeeping after his mother was finished with reading the cheap paper booklet. An article for every day of the week. Father Anderson had the Sunday one, a two-page spread which his mother had spent a particularly long time going over and reading through. It was like an advice column to help with stagnant marriages. Connor had read it multiple times even though the advice in it didn’t apply to him. Never, would apply to him. He could never marry another man within the church after all. To his mother’s dismay, her two sons turned out to be fairies, even tho, she only really knew the truth about one. The lengthy article talked about not taking impulsive, drastic decisions that could negatively impact your marriage, about going out more and smiling. Keep yourself smartly dressed at all times, spend more time together and make minimal use of electronic devices and social media. Go to ‘marriage enrichment’ talks and spend five minutes praying together daily. Saying that one is too old for putting care and compassion in a relationship is not a valid excuse. And as for sex? ‘Sexual intimacy is one of the highest forms of love you are able to express as given to you by God’. Most of the things in the article could have been said by anyone but to Connor, it only mattered that they were penned by Father Anderson. It meant he believed them too, that that’s how he would treat a partner in marriage. With ‘love and respect, compassion at all times.’ Connor had the printed words burned into his mind, with the omittance of the bullshit spew about the church and ‘God’, as well as his small coloured photo etched in his vision even when his eyes were closed.

Especially when his eyes were closed.

He wished he could close his eyes right now and imagine his face again, how it was in the picture with shorter, neater hair and a younger visage. How it was during mass, framed by longer, greyer hair and more mature features. And he almost did were it not that the person of his affection appeared in front of him right then.

Connor was taken aback by the clothing he wore. Up until then, he had never seen the older man out of his mass vestments. He was wearing a black, long-sleeved button-up shirt. It was fitted but not too tight apart from the stomach area where he could spot the tell-tale convex shape of his slightly protruding belly. His black slacks were being held up by a belt with a shiny silver buckle and he donned the generic type of formal black leather shoes. Although Autumn was approaching, it was still quite warm and Connor wondered how he didn’t feel hot under his constricting black outfit and high priest collar. He got closer to where the brunet was sitting and Connor’s attention fell back to his abdomen. He wanted to feel the soft curve beneath his hands and rest his head on it. Overall, Father Anderson seemed quite fit for a man his age, however, it was the small swell of his tummy was what was making Connor inhale deeply and clutch his fists over their resting positions on his thighs with an internal build-up of desire. The closer the other man came, the more he stared until he realised he was actually approaching him. He stopped a couple of feet away from him and Connor looked up to meet his eyes. He had been so distracted by the clothing he was wearing that he didn’t realise that his hair was also different than usual- pulled back in a small ponytail with stray strands framing his face.

“Not eating anything?” he said, nodding in the direction of the forgotten plate.

Connor’s throat felt dry as he tried to formulate a response to his question. Father Anderson had approached him specifically, was talking to him intentionally- because he saw that he hadn’t been eating. He had noticed him. The younger man scrambled for an answer before he got lost in his wistful thoughts as he always did when laying eyes on the man.

“I’m vegetarian,” he blurted out, mentally wincing at his eagerness to reply.

“Then why are you at an event like this if you don’t eat meats?” said Father Anderson in an interrogative manner, crossing his arms over his chest.

Connor shrugged, feeling his face already starting to burn up, “Wanted to spend some time with my family and well, donate for a good cause,” he replied, hoping his words didn’t come off as fake- seeing as his mother was nowhere to be seen around him as she took some time off from being forcefully joined to his hip to go mingle with a few other parents. He felt like he did when he was a child, during family occasions where he and his brother would sit in a corner and eat by themselves, talking to each other as the parties went on. Only now, he was much older and his brother wasn’t sitting with him either. And while adults appreciated it when their kids sat quietly and got out of their hair for them to have some time to talk to each other without having to worry about what chaos they were up to, now that he’s twenty-two it almost seemed like a sad sight that he was still being dragged around with his mother and sitting alone with a gross plate of food by his side.

Father Anderson’s expression softened at his words, giving him a sympathetic nod and smile before a glint appeared in his eye.

“Wait here,” was all he said before turning around and disappearing into the crowd again. Connor kept his gaze fixated in the direction he went in and wasn’t aware he had taken a different path back a few minutes later until he felt his hand rest on his shoulder. The action surprised Connor and he almost jumped in his seat. Relief washed over him when he noticed it was the older man touching him and not a random stranger. The only person he allowed inside his personal space was his brother and as it seemed so now, Father Anderson.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, smiling warmly at the brunet. At the sight of his smile, Connor felt his heartbeat pick up in pace, fluttering against his ribcage. He got so flustered that he almost didn’t notice the plate being trust in his hands and the words that followed.

“I brought some steamed vegetables and rice from home to serve on the side in case of allergies,” he explained as Connor looked down at the food.

Connor nodded and mumbled a small ‘thank you’. The other man’s hand was still resting on his shoulder, which he gave a tap to before pulling away from him completely. It took everything that Connor had to bite back a whine at the loss of contact.

“I have to go prepare for mass now,” he said as he started to turn on his heel to head back to the church building, “Hope you have a pleasant evening. Connor right? Your mother mentioned you once.”

Connor gave him a small nod.

“Great. God bless you.”

And with that, he left once more, leaving Connor with a warm plate of vegetables and rice and for the first time in his life, he ate greens without complaints or trying to pass them into his brother’s plate.

All because Father Anderson had given them to him personally and what’s more, he knew his name.


	5. Disciple

Connor didn’t know from were his fixation with older men started- he was just aware that his attraction always lay in them. One could easily narrow it down to Freudian theories and the fact that his father’s presence disappeared when he was still at the tender age of five. The living embodiment of the term coined nowadays as ‘daddy issues’. He always sought them out but he never acted on his desires either.

The only other time where he has some time to spend to himself is during his early morning jogs. He wasn’t aware if his mother knew about him sneaking out at five am for a good half an hour- he always found her still asleep by the time he got home anyway. Connor slipped on a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt as well as socks before sneaking out of his bedroom and down the hall, sliding along the parquet flooring to make as minimal sound as possible as he approached the staircase.

A few minutes later, he was out, the cool, early morning breeze blowing gently against his face, sending his hair flying at weird angles. But at that moment, there was no one to see him. There was no one he needed to impress with a neat and orderly appearance- so he picked up his walking pace and broke into a jog. He turned a corner, leaving his cul-de-sac with its postcard-perfect houses and picket fences behind. He went by the usual roads in his never changing predetermined route, not particularly paying close attention to any of his surroundings. He has been through those areas so many times that not only knew his way around them blindly, but he could also point out which households owned a pet and what car model and colour were parked in their driveway even with his vision obstructed. Who had kids and who’d rather not. Who lived in each house and the rumours flying about them. Whose behaviour was a mere facade to hide their secrets and dishonesty. And he also knew exactly what skeletons they hid in their closets, and those who hid in there themselves as well.

Connor came to the usual point where he would turn back and take the shorter way back home but in that particular moment, with the sun barely peeking from over the horizon, he decided to go on a little further. Just down another street or two. And perhaps it was fate or sheer coincidence that urged him to take a sharp left turn and bump in him. And crash into him he did, losing his balance and falling down on the pavement before a heavy weight pounced on him, full of energy and slobber. The brunet heard the familiar voice scolding the creature who leaped on him the second he landed on the floor. Soon enough, the weight was yanked off him and only then could he see the large St. Bernard, barking away excitedly.

“Easy there Sumo, we don’t want to be waking up the entire neighbourhood at this hour.”

For a split second, Connor was sure he was still in bed, slumbering in a blissful dream. And he almost believed that were it not for the slight pain were his rear connected to the hard ground below him. A hand appeared in front of his face and he just stared at it for a few seconds before realising that it was being offered to him to hold on to while he stood back up. Gingerly, he placed his own hand over it. The other man gripped his hand back firmly and pulled him back on his feet, and Connor was so distracted by the action that he almost failed to notice the other’s calloused skin against his own soft and smooth palm. The brunet’s eyes looked up to face the man for the first time in their sudden and unexpected encounter and his breath caught in his throat.

His deep brown eyes locked with Father Anderson’s bright blue ones but not before soaking in the way his hair was messily pulled back and the scruffy stubble around his lips and chin area. Connor could use their conjoined hands as leverage to pull himself up against him and to press their mouths together to feel the brush of his facial hair against his own skin and taste the coffee he drank that morning against his own lips, but he was held back by mere inhibition. As the older man let his hand go, Connor looked over the rest of him and was surprised to see him in normal non-clerical attire. Father Anderson was wearing an old T-Shirt with a band logo on its centre which had started to fade away a long time ago but still remained resilient in staying visible perhaps to simply rival the large stain to its side. He also had on a pair of comfortable dark trousers and big, dirty boots. It was probable that the St.Bernard had dragged him through a patch of dirt or muddy grass for his shoes to get covered in muck. There were even splatters near the hems on his trouser legs.

“Are you alright?” he said, his brows creased with concern, “Sorry, this old mutt gets excited easily when he sees people.”

For a moment, Connor thought that Father Anderson was referring to himself getting excited but mainly, it was because a big part of him wished that he indeed was happy to see him. 

“I’m okay,” he replied, running a nervous hand through his hair. He wasn’t sure what to say next but he knew that if he didn’t say anything, the other male will bid him a ‘blessed morning’ and be on his way. Connor didn’t want their interaction to end so he crouched back down next to the dog before placing a hand on the top of his head. He does so slowly, as not to startle him before carding his fingers through his fur. The dog felt warm, soft and comforting and Connor couldn’t help but imagine if the feeling was the same if he trailed his fingers along Father Anderson’s chest, if the feeling of the animal fur was the same as that of the body hair on the older male’s torso which the brunet was certain that he had.

“I like dogs,” he said, the sentence coming out awkwardly as he averted to answer the question. Cause he was feeling better than okay and wouldn’t be lying if he said that if he keeps looking at him with that soft expression he would definitely start getting aroused too. Father Anderson nodded in response, giving Connor a small smile which caused the latter to pretty much melt against the dog, face half hidden in his furry coat to hide the furious blush rising to his cheeks. He stayed like that for a minute, arms tight around the dog's neck as Sumo nuzzled him back- all three silent on that street corner.

He sneaked a look upwards towards the older man who was still gazing down towards him. It was unusual, making eye contact like this in any other time of the day that didn’t include mass. Looking at him right now, he didn’t look like a priest. He looked just like any mature man taking his big dog out for a walk in the morning and the brunet wished that that was all he was- ordinary and not out of his reach. And for a second he believed that as a feeling that he couldn’t quite put his finger on emerged from behind those cool blue eyes and the plastered smile on his face.

Conner may not have been dreaming but he did feel like he was in an altered state of mind. Unfortunately, the calming and delightful spell of the moment was broken by the sound of his phone, notifying him that his half hour was up. Quickly, he got back up and smiled, albeit shyly, at the other man.

“I should be heading back home,” he said before adding, “See you at mass Father Anderson.”

After Father Anderson exchanged a ‘God bless you’ back to him, he turned on his heel and kept walking on with the dog lumbering next to him. Connor kept staring at him until he turned another corner and went out of sight. It was only then that he started his sprint back home and managed to get there only ten minutes later than his usual time. He successfully managed to sneak back into his bedroom unnoticed and was fast asleep in a matter of minutes.

He slept in till midday, dreaming of himself and a particular silver haired male taking morning walks together, sharing the dog leash whilst holding their hands together.


	6. Excitator

Since the run-in with Father Anderson and his dog, Connor had adjusted his morning run route to start passing from that same street where they met. Most of the time, they pass each other. Sumo would bark excitedly when he saw him, tugging at his thick leash in his direction as his owner and the brunet exchanged ‘good morning’ and ‘how are you’ before going back to their respective morning tasks. While this daily interaction brought satisfaction to Connor, he wanted to know how much more he can push out of it- what new reactions he could get from the older man.

It was almost a fortnight since his jogging sessions had transformed into an opportunity to ogle the man out of work and one morning, Connor found himself in his brother’s bedroom, lit torch in mouth as he shifted through his closet for a new outfit to wear. A particular outfit which he had seen his brother in before and wanted to try it on himself. He smiled in delight when his hands came across the light blue fabric of the shirt and the matching bottoms followed soon after. He grabbed them, holding them in a bundle up against his chest and quietly went back into his room, quickly changing into them. Stepping in front of the full length body mirror resting against one side of the wall, he examined his choice of clothing and grinned.

Connor wore a thin sky blue hoodie with two coloured strips of white and grey running horizontally across his torso. The hoodie was slightly over sized however, it ended just above his navel, exposing his stomach. For trousers, he had grey shorts with white and matching blue stripes running down vertically on both sides. He remembered his brother saying how he fished the get up out of the female section at the store just because how good it made his ass look and now, staring at his reflection in the mirror, Connor understood exactly what he meant. Slipping on white socks, he went downstairs and put his trainers on, sneaking out as quiet as a mouse as he usually would.

Due to the higher amount of exposed skin, Connor found the morning breeze to be a bit chillier as usual. It was also stronger in general, blowing his hair in different directions and making it a mess. But that didn’t matter, he knew the Father’s eyes will be wandering to other parts of his body. If they don’t then it means that his efforts to impress were futile or he really had some good self-control. His pace sped up as he approached the usual turn where he would usually pass by the older man, his heart also picking up in beats with anticipation. However, to his disappointment, it wasn’t Father Anderson that he came by.

“Connor? Is that you? Ralph hasn’t seen you in a while!”

The brunet hadn’t even started to register those words when he felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around him and a chin rest against his shoulder.

Illeism as a form of speech can be linked to several personality traits. In literature, narrators can use it whilst talking about themselves to appear objective or create a twist at the end of the book. In real life, however, it’s common when imparting humility on oneself it can also be the complete opposite- a trait of a person whose narcissistic or eccentric. In Ralph’s case, Connor was pretty sure it was the later however, he didn’t know what prompted this manner of speech in him. For as long as he knew the blond boy, with the scars etched on one side of his face and pale hazel eyes- he barely ever heard him talk in the first person. An oddball in his books for sure but not malicious. His mood had a tendency to fluctuate randomly and to some extent, to extremities. It was because of this that he got into the fight in middle school which caused the left side of his face to suffer from lacerations that left a permanent mark. He had also been hit around the eye area, causing his vision in that one eye to go wonky.

Connor wouldn’t exactly consider Ralph a friend, not a stranger either and a bit more than an acquaintance. Truth be told, Connor didn’t really have friends because of how strict his mother was with him. He didn’t get close to people because the second he would, they would be turned off by his mother’s hold over him. What’s the point in having friends if you can’t hang out with them at after school hours? Go out with them or invite them over to watch TV and eat late night snacks. Go to parties, get drunk and dance. Have fun.

“It’s good to see you too Ralph,” he said, trying to mask the disappointment in his voice as he looked over behind the taller male to see Father Anderson nowhere in sight as he lightly hugs him back.

Ralph doesn’t let go immediately, lingering his embrace around the other for a moment too long. When he did eventually pull away, Connor felt the light brush of his fingers over his exposed waist and even tho the touch was brief and unintentional, it sent a shiver running down his spine.

The blond male smiled and conversed at him- soothing some of his earlier disappointment as he fabricated a plan in his head.


	7. Vocation

“What happened with Daniel?”

“We broke up.”

“But I thought you liked him?”

“Nah, I just wanted to make Gavin jealous.”

This type of conversation had been common between the brothers. Connor would lie across one side, Niles the other, and the two of them would gaze at the faint glow-in-the-dark stars against the ceiling of Niles’s bedroom. It was a common way of how they used to spend their evenings. The younger of the pair would talk incessantly about his boy escapades while his older brother listened intently, soaking as much of his words as possible. It was his only window after all to a world he was missing out on. He didn’t have the pluck to sneak out at night or smuggle people in without his mother’s consent. His fear of being caught overrode his desire to experience anything intimate at all.

If only he had the same nerve as his brother.

These are the thoughts that came to mind when later on that day he mustered the courage to lie about going to church. In a surprising turn of events, his mother had started to trust him going alone, speaking highly of Father Anderson and what good influence he was on him. 

In truth, Connor had gone to Ralph's place. It was a weird sensation, being over to someone else's house without his mother breathing down his neck. The house was dimly lit sans from the light peeking through the windows. There was an eerie silence enveloping the building and it was the second thing he became aware of after the large amounts of plants littering every surface and once empty space of the interior. There were even potted vines spilling over the railing of the stairs. It was an almost mystical vision, like something from a dream until Connor remembered that Ralph's parents were both botanists and this was probably something expected of them to have.

The brunet felt the other make's hand slip into his as he led him up the staircase, squeaking under the combined weight of their footsteps and probably because it was loaded with more small potted plants on each individual step. Connor wondered how they managed to take care of the ridiculously large amount of flora in the house- it was like a literal indoor jungle. Ralph's room was less crowded, filled with more small succulents rather than large leafy plants.

Ralph made a beeline towards his windowsill and picked up one of the pots there. He went back towards the brunet who had remained standing slightly awkwardly by the door frame and held out the plant for him to see. Connor was expecting to see one of the many thick and fleshy plants that adorned the bedroom but instead he was presented with something he had never seen before. From the soil emerged numerous stems with what seemed to be two lobes at the top of each one. With their reddish centre and the thin soft spikes covering their edges, they gave a semblance of mouths. Ralph must have noticed the quizzical manner in which Connor was staring at the plant and spoke up.

“She’s a Dionaea muscipula,” he said as if that would explain anything to Connor. The latter looked up at him and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“A Venus flytrap,” Ralph tried again but this still elicited no reaction from the other male whatsoever.

“She’s a carnivorous plant. She feeds on insects,” he says, pointing to one of the red leaves, “These are traps. They have like, special hairs that feel bugs when they land on them and then they close up to coat them in digestive juices. It’s fascinating isn’t it?” Connor was never one who would describe plant processes as ‘fascinating’ but he didn’t want to put a damper on Ralph’s excitement as he talked about his favourite plant so he strained a smile and agreed with all he said. The animated way and delighted manner in which Ralph was talking and moving his free hand reminded him of Sumo and how joyous he always was whenever he sees Connor. The brunet’s thoughts shifted over to Father Anderson and was about to immerse himself in them were it not for hearing the words “I call her Audrey two.”

“Audrey two?” he echoed and the glint in Ralph’s eyes as soon as he heard his inquiring tone was enough indication for him to know that he had just opened Pandora’s box.

A few minutes later, a very buzzing Ralph was sitting crossed legged next to Connor on the bed as the small laptop in front of them rolled up the opening sequence of ‘Little Shop of Horrors’. Ralph had insisted on watching the cult-classic movie to explain to him his plant’s namesake. The blond male kept pausing the movie to explain things and point out the other plants in it but Connor didn’t feel annoyed by that. Truthfully, he became immersed in the plot as much as Ralph was and was finding Ralph’s quiet singing to the songs endearing as well. During the second half of the movie, Ralph grew quieter as the second half of the movie started. This was also when Connor felt Ralph inching closer to him until he was leaning against him. As he rested his head on his shoulder, Connor felt the same thrill he had that morning when Ralph accidentally came in contact with his skin. The brunet thought back to that morning and the seed of an idea that had planted itself in his head. Maybe it wasn’t as far-fetched as it sounded at the time. Connor didn’t harbour the same affection for Ralph as he did for Father Anderson and he knew from the blond male’s always lingering eyes on their mutual friend Jerry that Ralph also cared for someone else. But maybe he was desperate for any type of attention at this point, especially since the ginger had been out of town for most of the Summer with his cousin Kara. Maybe he needed an outlet to release his pent-up tension from his one-sided sentiments.

Connor tentatively placed a hand over Ralph’s thigh, the one that was knocking against his own. The other didn’t react negatively or flinch at the action. They stay like that for a while as the final scene of  the movie played out.

“Ralph likes this ending better. They changed the original one into a stupid typical happy ending,” he murmured softly, “I like plants more than people so I don’t mind them destroying humanity.”

Connor thinks of his mother and his brother and silently agrees with him.

After the first few minutes of the alien plant induced apocalypse, Connor’s attention drifts away from the screen and he looks over to Ralph. The other male must’ve have immediately felt his eyes on him cause not even a moment later, he tears his gaze off his laptop and focuses it on Connor.

And at that point, he realised that he had much more in common than he anticipated with Ralph when it came on acting on impulse regarding the notion of gaining the attention of someone else. Like that one time in high school Ralph smuggled his pet tarantula to class to impress Jerry but then it backfired on him when he discovered that the ginger was arachnophobic after fainting at the sight of it. On the other hand, Connor’s idea of impressing his crush was by wearing more revealing clothing which in turn, ended up with him locked in a staring contest with Ralph on his bed.

So Connor decided to skip that step and do as Niles would and leaned into Ralph, pressing their lips together as the music of the credits scene faded out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look me in the eyes and tell me that Ralph wouldn't love 'Little Shop of Horrors' cause clearly it's something he'd be into, android or human.


	8. Charity

For a first proper kiss, despite it not being with Father Anderson, Connor still found himself enthralled by it.

It started out slow, with the two males shifting the position of their mouth against the other’s in an experimental manner until they figured out the appropriate way to do it. Sure Connor had seen this happen in movies or explicit videos several times before however, experiencing it himself for the first time was different. He wasn’t sure about Ralph’s experience on the matter either but from the looks of it, it seemed like they were both on the same page of expertise- that being none whatsoever. Once the pair found their rhythm, the kiss deepened itself as the blond male brought his hands up to cup Connor’s cheeks. The latter parted his lips wider which in turn Ralph took as an invitation to slide his tongue inside of the brunet’s mouth. A low moan caught at the back of Connor’s throat and Ralph’s hands slid away from his face- only to place themselves on his hips, gripping him and pulling him over on his lap. Connor momentarily pulled back from the kiss to adjust himself properly on top of the other in a way that both of them would be comfortable. He rested a knee on either side of Ralph as the other gazed up at him with a face as flushed as his own. Connor slipped his arms around Ralph’s neck, pulling himself as close as possible to him before dipping his head down to kiss him again.

He didn’t want to look at his face for too long, he was scared it would translate his actions into meaning something serious and from Connor’s perspective, it meant nothing more than him relieving some of his tension as well as serve as a ploy to make Father Anderson jealous. There was the large chance that the priest wasn’t into him whatsoever and all of this could be as far as he could go into playing out his strung up tale of fantasies related to getting with the older man but at that moment, he didn’t want to think too much about it. His only focus was to coax Ralph into doing what he wants so his semblance of a far-fetched plan would work.

Connor tentatively rolled his hips against Ralph’s and was surprised to feel the telltale hardness of his arousal near his own groin. The kissing had stimulated the brunet but not enough to sport a full-on hard-on as the other had. Maybe the blond had been worse off than him with pent-up need. At the action, Ralph’s breath hitched before biting down a bit too roughly against Connor’s lips. The latter winced at the slight sting of pain and he could faintly taste the taste of his own blood a few moments later when Ralph kept nipping at that same spot. Gently, Connor slipped his hands down onto the other’s chest and pushed him enough to break the kiss. Truthfully, the brunet wasn’t minding the pain however, he’d rather the other leave a mark somewhere he could hide and reveal at his leisure.

A pout formed on Ralph’s lips and knowing his volatile behaviour, Connor quickly ran a thumb over his bottom lip to soothe him. Last thing he wanted to do was upset the other over nothing.

“If you’re going to bite, do it here,” he whispered as he tugged down his shirt collar for emphasis. Ralph spent no time in leaning in and pressing his mouth against his neck, taking the unmarked skin between his teeth and fervently nipping and sucking on it. The blond didn’t hold himself back and kept attacking different areas on his neck over and over to cover them in dark reddish-purple bruises and Connor found himself enjoying them more than he wanted to. He felt Ralph’s hands slide under his shirt and run up his spine and he closed his eyes. He could imagine that it was Father Anderson doing this, exploring his body with his hands and carving his possession over him in the forms of hickeys all over his neck and collarbones. Ralph’s hands were smaller and smoother than Father Anderson’s despite having small cuts on them, probably from caring to his more thorny plants, but as long as he pictured the older man, he would still derive pleasure from the sensation of them gliding over his skin.

Connor didn’t realise that he had started rutting himself against Ralph’s inner thigh until he felt the other palm him through his jeans. He had to control himself before he went too far- he wanted to save himself for Father Anderson after all. That was the point of this thing he had initiated with the blond.  Ralph’s lithe fingers started to undo Connor’s belt and zipper. 

They got to this point, maybe he could compromise on just getting each other off and pass it off as a ‘gaining experience’ episode.

So the brunet mirrored the other male’s actions and after fumbling around a bit, both their trousers were off, leaving them in too tight briefs and shirts, moderately damp from their sweat. They sat still for a moment, staring at each other’s bodies. Connor’s eyes drifted from Ralph’s distracted flush face to his chest. His shirt was clinging to his skin, showing off his lean yet lanky torso. Wandering further downwards, the brunet could slightly make out the top part of his member poking out of his pale green briefs. 

He didn’t wait for the blond male to make the first move, he simply reached out and pulled the other’s waistband down, freeing his erection. At first glance, it seemed longer than his own but with less girth to it. Tentatively, Connor reached out and wrapped a hand around it before giving it an experimental stroke. Ralph let out a small hiss, mumbling something about a dry hand. The brunet retracted his hand back and spit into his palm before attempting to jerk off the other male again. He just had to do what he does to himself when he’s getting off. He twisted his arm in an upwards and downwards motion, slow at first but picking up in speed once he felt confident about his actions- just like their kiss earlier. Ralph let out a low groan, tilting his head slightly to the side as his hips moved up into Connor’s fist in short thrusts. Connor ran a thumb against his slit, gathering his leaking precum before smearing it all over his tip, procuring another pleasured sound from Ralph.

“Let go,” breathed out the blond male in a barely audible voice. Panic was already starting to form inside of Connor at the words, thinking he had done something that displeased the other however, his agitation quickly dissipated when he realised that Ralph was just changing their positions to pleasure him as well. Ralph turned Connor around, pulling him onto his lap once again but this time, with his back against his chest. A hand snaked around the brunet’s waist and pulled his cock from his tenting underwear and started to jerk him off in motions similar to those he had been doing on him only a few moments ago. A needy whine escaped from Connor’s bruised lips, causing his face to flush more as the other worked his hand around him. He could feel Ralph’s erratic, hot breath against his neck and he shivered in pleasure against him, arching his back backwards as a louder moan escaped from his parted lips. That seemed to stir Ralph even further as in one swift motion, he pushed Connor off him and on his hands and knees, hand still pumping away at his dick while grinding himself against the brunet’s perky ass. He could feel his cock gliding across the thin fabric of his underwear as best as he could between his cheeks, occasionally moving a bit too far upwards and grinding himself against his lower back where the waistband of his underwear had slid down to expose half of his ass.

When Connor came, Ralph was hunched over him, mouth attached in the area between his shoulder and clavicle. His eyes fluttered shut, and he had to bite down on his bottom lip to not moan out Father Anderson’s name. A couple of thrusts later, Ralph went stiff against Connor and let out a low moan as he spilled his warm fluids over his back.

Ralph rolled off Connor, falling back on the bed as he tried to regulate his erratic breathing, face still red. The brunet, unsure of how to act, laid down next to him, staring up at the ceiling. Ralph didn’t have glow in the dark stars attached to it like his brother had. Instead, it had chipped paint and minute signs of mould. Suddenly, he felt Ralph shift next to him and curl up against him. Connor turned his head around to face him and was met with his half-lidded hazel eyes.

“I miss Jerry,” he murmured as Connor wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer to him, anticipating this shift in mood. Ralph threw a leg over his, as the two of them got entangled in each other’s embrace. They laid there for a while in silence, Connor’s thoughts wandering to whether Father Anderson would be softer and warmer to cuddle with. When it came to spooning terminology, Ralph would essentially be a knife. But the priest, Connor would get lost in him, melt against the feeling of his body up against his own. The thought excited him.

Looking down at Ralph, Connor noticed that he had fallen asleep. He waited a few minutes before slipping out of his hold, carefully as not to wake him up, put his pants on and get out of the house. As he walked down the street, he recognised Ralph’s parents’ car drive by and he turns his face away from it, speeding up his pace and hoping he went by unnoticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week I won't be updating on Wednesday as I yet need to polish up the next couple of chapters to close this first part so tune back Sunday for more thirsty twink shenanigans. We're going to church kids.


	9. Leviticus 18

****“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Connor’s voice came out as a mere whisper as his vision adjusted to the darkness of the confessional booth, his eyes focusing on the red velvet curtain blocking out the rest of the church from him and him from it. The only sliver of light that managed to pass through into the small and confined booth was from the area where the thick and musty curtains didn’t quite reach the wooden step. As Connor shifted on the uncomfortable stool he was sitting on, his sight had adjusted enough to be able to make out carvings done on the inside of the mahogany box- names in hearts and slurs and phone numbers- probably done by presumptuous teens after being forced by their concerned parents to attend confessional because they showed ‘devious behaviour’ by staying out too long. Or maybe simply because they wondered there when mass ended and had nothing better to do while their guardians gossiped and hypocritically talked smack about ‘the less fortunate of us’ after hearing a sermon on providence and humility.

The brunet glanced over to the wooden screen separating the two halves of the booth. He could briefly make out the outline of the other person’s face through the minuscule holes and he had no doubt that it was his target after seeing the smallest hint of facial hair.

“Tell me, son, what do you wish to repent for?”

The voice was unmistakably Father Anderson’s- Connor could recognise his low, whisper anywhere. The sound of it reverberated in the otherwise quiet booth and it sent a shameful shiver down the younger male’s spine.

“I had impure thoughts, Father,” replied Connor, not pausing as his tone of voice became more hushed as he carried on with his pre-rehearsed speech, “and I acted on them with another.”

The brunet could hear the other sigh deeply as he rested his own head against one side of the confessional.

“‘For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honour, not in the passion of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God,’” quoted Father Anderson in a tone underlined with the feeling that this wasn’t his first time reciting those lines, “Thessalonians, first epistle, chapter four. You know what that means right, kid? Sex before marriage is a sin in the eyes of God.”

“I do, that’s why I came here,” said Connor, bringing his hands to rest against the lower half of the partition as he leaned closer to it, cheek almost touching the screen’s panelling.

“Just … say three Hail Marys and don’t do it again alright?”

For a moment, Connor was caught in surprise. He was expecting a scolding, that’s what his mother used to tell him about confessionals. You confess, you get chewed out for whatever ‘sin’ you committed, and then you get a punishment after the priest prays to God for your forgiveness. All the brunet had gotten, however, was a half-hearted Bible quotation and prayers with an indifferent attitude. Connor wanted to delve deeper, get under the other's skin and spur him on so that their conversation would stay on his mind long enough for his next step.

The younger male chewed nervously at his bottom lip as he carefully chose his next few words.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference at all,” he said, his voice dropping in volume low enough that it became barely audible unless the receiver of his message was listening intently to him.

“Why’s that?” came Father Anderson’s now slightly annoyed voice at having to stay any longer in the enclosed space.

“I’m unable to get married,” replied Connor and when the other male said nothing in expectancy of a follow-up sentence, he continued, “I like men, Father.”

Connor could faintly make out the other’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. The screen wasn’t obstructive as it was intended to be if Connor could make out these small movements that were happening on its opposite side. The small gaps that were in the thin layer of wood were there to just supposedly allow only their voices to travel through to keep complete anonymity after all. The brunet couldn't help but notice how Father Anderson kept staring straight ahead and not once did he turn his face to the side to try and make out who was on hidden on his left.

“Aren’t you going to quote some more, Father?” breathed out Connor, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “‘You must not lie down with a male in the same way that you lie down with a woman. It is a detestable act.’ That’s the one you’re thinking about right? But surely you must have your own opinion on the matters, don't you? Do you think I’m disgusting now? That I’m any worse than before?”

“My opinion is irrelevant to this,” came the older man’s voice with an irritated bite to it before taking in a deep breath. “Just … do the penance I gave you to do and don’t do any of this again,” he continued, “If you excuse me now, I have to get ready for mass.”

“You didn’t say I was forgiven though, Father,” pointed out Connor in a cheeky tone of voice. He could hear another sigh coming from behind the screen before the man mumbled the words, “you’re forgiven," without an ounce of prayer or meaning to them.

The brunet sat in his position for a short while longer as he heard the curtain on the priest’s side get drawn open and the creak of his chair as he stood up from it and walked away in a hurried pace. When Connor no longer could hear his footsteps, he slipped out of his side of the booth before making his way across the pews where his mother was sitting and planted himself next to her.

It was around ten minutes later, that the church bells rang, indicating that mass was about to start in a few minutes time and for Connor, that was enough proof that Father Anderson wasn’t really late for preparing himself before mass but he merely was running away. From him or his own thoughts that might have arisen during their conversation, the brunet was about to find out.

As usual, Connor zoned out for the majority of the mass, his only focus being Father Anderson’s voice but not his actual words. However, he couldn’t help but notice that the priest was less composed than usual, a bit flustered even as he spoke, occasionally staggering on his words. And it was Connor’s luck really, the irony and pure coincidence which was one of the day’s liturgical readings- Levictus 18. And as the reader recited the texts at the ambo, Connor couldn’t help but occasionally glance at where Father Anderson was sitting in his priest’s chair with his flowing vestments draping down over its sides, eyes fixed on the marble floor beneath him.

The brunet’s heart was practically racing in his chest with anticipation as he stood up to line up behind his mother for the Eucharistic portion of the ceremony. With each step he took forward, the more his nerves started to grow. There was still a voice at the back of his head, nagging at him at how stupid the whole thing was, that at the end of the day he’s just going to make a fool of himself simply because he was having horny fantasies and acting impulsively on them. But on the other hand, he also had a premonition that something was off about Father Anderson. It felt like the priest was running on a script, and whenever someone said or did anything- or he simply ends up in an unplanned situation- he shows difficulty in improvising the scene. So he stays quiet, gives out generic, curt answers and walks away. And what's more, no one knew that much about him. Sometimes, the fact that he had only moved there just a few months ago and that not much was known about him and his background escaped Connor’s thoughts. But then again, the brunet couldn’t remember a time when the older man wasn’t constantly on his mind. The thought of a time where he didn’t even know about his existence and what his presence did to him and his cognition (and body) seemed foreign to him now.

He could hear his mother muttering her ‘amen’ and step away from in front of him and he knew it was time for him to make full use of the four-second slot which the aforementioned interaction presented him with.

His hand movement was quick and precise. His fingers played with the fabric of his navy blue scarf, pretending to adjust it but with the intention to mess it up so that it unravelled. And unravel it did with a flourish as it almost slipped down to the floor from one side of his neck. Catching it before it dropped, he held it in his hands as he looked up to face Father Anderson as he heard a small scoff escape from him. Their eyes locked with one another’s as Connor scanned his face for a reaction. It was only after the priest placed the Eucharist on his tongue between his parted lips and pulled away that his eyes fell to the marks on his neck. The brunet was scared that they would have started to fade overnight but Ralph had been rough with him and bit down on his skin hard enough for the bruises to darken instead.

As Connor replied with his amen, the other male’s eyes went wide, seemingly making the connection between his silent reply and his whispers in the confessional booth. And provided with the empirical proof that were the hickeys on Connor’s skin, the brunet had no doubt that his plan to be discerned from the rest of the church-goers by the other had worked.

Connor gave the other man a small, innocent smile, before turning on his heel and wrapping his scarf back around his neck, his ears catching the sound of a sharp inhale coming from behind him as he made his way back to the pews.

Eight seconds- a new record.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor: Forgive me daddy for I have been a naughty boy.  
> Hank: /internal screaming.


	10. Pew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter contains some homophobic language and behaviour.

The day after his small episode at the church with Father Anderson, the heavens split open as the first showers of the seasons poured. The positive side was that when the deluge of water started to precipitate, he had been inside. The negative part of that, however, was that because of it, he had spent the last half an hour trapped inside a convenience store with his mother. They had walked it there, being quite close to their home, but this meant that until the sky cleared itself from the storm they had to stay put unless they wanted to get drenched to the bone and spoil their groceries.

To kill the time after they finished piling up the items in their shopping basket, Connor’s mother tried to make small talk with him. In acknowledgement, all he did was silently nod as he had been doing for the entirety of their trip or rather, to be more specific, for the past few months. Unless it was an absolute necessity, he didn’t utter a lot of words around her. It was for the best considering the strenuous relationship they had which in retrospect, had all been her handiwork. The undoing of their family was all her doing because of her insecurities. The only person she managed to keep subjugated for most of his life was Connor yet now he too was finally labouring to bring the shears to her strings on him by sheer willpower which had been buried deep inside of him. A feeling that had been accumulating over the years, yearning to burst free.

These are the thoughts that pass through the brunet’s head as he pretends to distract himself by examining a can of microwavable mac and cheese.

And he thinks, that as cliche as it might sound, the reason he’s finally letting go of these restraints in his psyche is because at last, there’s something in his life that he’s not ready to give up just because his authoritarian guardian tells him to. And that something is the way he felt whenever he saw Father Anderson and the unruly impulses that came with that feeling that will be the grand marshal of the cataclysmic parade of bad decisions leading to his eventual self-destruction.

Holding on to the can of mac and cheese, he turned around to go back to where his mother was cause he knew that if he didn’t go to her, she would come to him. As he spun on his heel in the general direction from where her voice rang against his ears, discernibly in deep conversation with another shopper more willing to listen to her than him, he found himself obstructed by a sturdy barricade. Only, the deterrent was not stationary as Connor quickly realised when it spun round to face him. He recognised the person’s face instantly and at that moment, he was sure that whatever path the universe was paving for him was a passage towards the butt end of a cruel joke, based on an amalgamation of his thoughts and whatever sardonic humour the fates held against him as the level of contingency of running into Father Anderson so soon after his salacious showboating only the day before couldn’t have possibly been that high.

Especially after he had just spent a good few minutes immersed in thoughts about him.

The first thing Connor noticed as soon as his eyes landed on the other man’s bearded face was the way his eyes immediately dropped to his neck, which Connor took the responsible choice to cover up with one of his brother’s turtlenecks. Niles wore them constantly and why wouldn’t he when anyone with eyes could see the way that the dark fabrics enhanced the length of his already long pale neck in an almost mesmerising manner. Connor wondered if he mainly wore them because they genuinely looked attractive on him or simply because it was a stylish way to hide his ravished skin from his night-time escapades. Either way, the brunet was thankful that his brother owned them because he didn’t have any of his own and it would raise suspicions from his mother if he constantly kept wearing his one and only scarf. However, the long-sleeved shirt didn’t have the same form-fitting effect on him as he wasn’t as broad and tall as his younger brother but it felt comfortable and did the job he intended it to do when he plucked it out of Nile’s neat, monotonous wardrobe.

“Oh Connor! Father Anderson has offered to drive us home since the weather doesn’t seem like it’s getting better any time soon- isn’t that wonderful?”

But Connor was barely paying notice to her words as both him and Father Anderson got momentarily lost in just staring at one another. Did Father Anderson still have the events of the previous day on his mind? Was he perhaps thinking of the right way of approaching the matter or whether he should avoid it completely and act as nonchalant as possible around the younger male? Connor could only speculate what the priest, donned in casual clothing but retaining his collar, was thinking.

Connor was trying to figure out whether he should say something or wait for the other man to do so first but their next action quickly got decided by the sound of something crashing onto the floor. Instinctively, their heads turned around to try and locate the source of the noise which had manifested into a loud argument. Whatever was causing the commotion seemed to be happening on the next aisle over and it was only natural, due to humankind’s impertinent nature, that both men gravitated towards the epicentre of the dispute.

Unlabelled food cans from the clearance section littered the linoleum tiles as a large, burly man- almost as big as Father Anderson but not quite- with scraggly unkempt hair and damp patches of sweat under his arms and on the back of his shirt stood in front of it. He was pinning a tall, lean man with a darker skin tone sporting a sandy brown, long, jacket up against the shelves by the scruff of his clothing’s collar and Connor took only one glance at his mismatching eye colours to recognise him as Markus. The brunet looked over to their side and as expected, Simon was there. The light blond male had distress written all over his facial features and he was talking loudly in a concerned manner, his face flushed red with outrage- a state of being that Connor never saw the mild-mannered and sweet elementary school teacher take since he had moved in with his partner a few months back.

“Fucking faggots, why don’t you go fuck up somewhere else with your disgusting behaviour? Disgusting filth- that’s what you are!”

Markus looked directly at him with a steely gaze and gave him a reply- quiet enough that Connor couldn’t hear it. However, whatever it was, it seemed to have antagonised the man even further and in a split of a second, Connor saw a large fist get raised high above them followed by the sound of something cracking. Yet it wasn’t the hulking man’s fist that was the cause of the noise as it was still hanging in the air when it happened. Nonetheless, it only took one quick glance at the state of the three men to realise that it was Simon who threw a punch first into the man’s now bloody nose.

Things happened fast then. One moment Connor was looking at some of the employees attending to the rabid man while Simon and Markus got lost in the small forming crowd and in the next, his mother was dragging him to get their items to a cashier so they could pay and leave. Connor was low-key dumbstruck by the whole ordeal and only realised that they had gone out of the mini-mart and into Father Anderson’s car when he heard the engine sputter to life.

“That was absolutely dreadful- don’t you think so, Father Anderson?” His mother’s manner of speech was un-phased, not really articulating any emotion or tone relevant to the phrase she had just said. The priest replied with a mutter of agreement yet this didn’t seem to satisfy Connor’s mother enough to shut her up so she spoke up again.

“Although those two were well aware that they shouldn’t exert that … immoral behaviour in public, especially here. They’re setting a bad example for our kids, giving us a bad name as a community and discrediting our collective dedication to the church and God himself,” she said, shaking her head in dismay. The brunet was sure that Simon and Markus weren’t employing any indecent behaviour and that the delirious man had attacked them simply because he knew of their relationship and just went in a frenzy because he didn’t agree with it. The couple had moved there with the intention of starting fresh They introduced themselves as boyfriends to their neighbours, presented them with home-made baked goods and even hosted a small get-together for their cul-de-sac. However, their guileless openness backfired on them when people outright rejected them because of their sexual orientation- because they couldn't let go of their bigotry in the face of something real, free. A true and pure expression of love and kindness that the two men shared between them and were also ready to express with others. Simon couldn’t even find a teaching position in the schools there because the ones in administration masked their homophobic prejudice under the excuse of him being ‘over-qualified’ so now every morning he had to wake up at the brink of dawn to travel to the next town over to teach the six-year-olds there.

When Father Anderson didn’t reply to her, Connor’s mother piped up again.

“I’m right aren’t I, though? This whole … ‘thing’ they have going on is obscene, don’t you agree?”

Tearing his eyes away from the window which Connor had been subconsciously staring out of for the past few minutes, he glimpsed at the rear-view mirror where he could partially see Father Anderson’s face.

“Yes.”

As the older male uttered that singular word, his eyes briefly flickered over to the mirror and met with Connor’s. It was clear to the male at the back, that the look on his face wasn’t one of a man assertively agreeing to his mother's close-minded statements yet one of understanding and sympathy. The sympathy part came in later, when he was helping Connor and his mother carry the grocery bags to the front door. He gave him a quick squeeze on the shoulder, smiling warmly at him and wishing him a “blessed day” before disappearing back in his car and driving away. Connor could read through his actions however and how they were all a ruse to hide the underlying silent apology he couldn’t voice out in front of his mother.

By the time he was settled in bed, under the covers in an oversized hoodie and clutching a warm mug of hot chocolate, the rain had ceased. And he sat there, burrowed comfortably as his eyes peered out the window, absorbing the sensation of a fresh start that the first downpour after the dry summers always brought around with it.


	11. Simulacrum

The blue, LED alarm clock on Connor’s bedside table read one-thirty five in the morning as the brunet discreetly got himself off under his bedsheets. Soft gasps poured out of his lips against the back of his free hand as he masturbated with the other, moving it up and down fervently around his shaft along with small thrusts of his hips into it. He ran his thumb over his slit, smearing a bead of pre-come around his fingers to add more to the mess of saliva and bodily fluids he was using as a substitute for lube. This wasn’t the first time he had woken up hard from a wet-dream and he knew it definitely wasn’t going to be his last. He felt like a prepubescent kid, tainting his underwear at night because clearly, his daytime fantasies weren’t enough.

And of course, it’s no secret and no surprise, that in his mind he thought of Father Anderson. Father Anderson kissing him. Father Anderson and his large hands gliding all over his body. Father Anderson’s mouth on his neck and the sensitive buds on his chest. Father Anderson stretching him out while whispering praises and endearments against his ear. Father Anderson pounding him into his mattress while relentlessly pulling him from his hair. Father Anderson filling him up enough with his seed so that it drips out of the brunet’s entrance the second he pulls out of him. These thoughts cycled through Connor’s mind, sometimes in different settings and positions or with him up in particular outfits but eventually, he finds the one image that manages to tip him over the edge and reach his climax as he buried his face in his pillow to muffle out the loud moans that accompanied his orgasms.

Fifteen minutes later, Connor is silently slipping out of the bathroom and back to his room in a pair of fresh underwear with his dirty ones a wet mass in his hand after rinsing out the proof of his shame and guilt from the fabric. Once inside his dimly lit bedroom, he throws his briefs in the laundry basket in the corner of his room and sighs as he sits down on his bed. Glancing at the clock, he breathes out heavily once again. He didn’t feel tired enough to go back to sleep and there was only so much he could entertain himself within the gloom of his room. He looked down at the shaggy carpet covering the floor of his room and his eye caught the sleeve of the sky-blue hoodie he had worn a few days ago peeking from were it was hidden under his bed. Sliding off the mattress, he crouched down and pulled it out along with its matching shorts, however, he put the latter back before down going over to his closet and pulling out a longer pair of joggers more appropriate for the cooler weather.

In a matter of minutes, he was out of the house for a spontaneous, earlier, morning jog. As expected, the breeze was colder than usual and the streets were completely void of life and cars.

Connor would be started his last year in college before graduating with his degree in a few weeks time. He could continue studying then, refine his skills more or get a job.

He could get a job and move away from his mother, away from the secluded and conservative town.

Away from Father Anderson.

That thought slows the pace of his jog into a halt as he lets it wash over him. He was being foolish and naive thinking he could have his happily ever after with that man. He has been repeating those words in his head over and over for a countless amount of times in the past few days and yet, he still found himself clinging to that shred of hope because Father Anderson was finally responding to his carefully calculated actions and words. His thoughts wander back to the encounter at the convenience store and the way the older man had acted. Maybe the reason that there was more to the priest than what meets the eye was what was spurring him onwards, and making him leech onto his disillusions even more.

Connor picks up his jog again and allows himself to try and think of nothing, to clear his mind of all negativity and burdensome feelings. He comes to a stop once more as he approached the corner where he usually runs into Father Anderson when he walks his dog and it was then, that in a continuation of the concurrent events in his life combined with poetic pathetic fallacy, that it started to rain.

By the time Connor sprinted back home, he was drenched to the bone. As he approached the front door, he noticed it was imperceptibly ajar. Being certain that he had closed it properly before heading out, he approached it carefully as the instinctive first thought of a break-in crossed his mind. Slipping inside and taking off his shoes after closing it correctly, he padded slowly in his socks down the principal hallway, trying to figure out if there was indeed a stranger in the house only to hear the most minuscule sounds of things getting moved around in the kitchen. Following the soft noises, he peered from behind the archway leading to the room only to be met with a sight that sent relief flooding all over him.

“I could hear you from the hallway you know,” whispered Connor as he walked up to his brother who was currently sifting through the contents of the fridge. The light emitting from the open household-appliance was the only source of lighting in the room apart from the moonlight dimly shining through the curtained window, reflecting on Niles’s impassive features and blue-tinted hair.

His cool, azure-grey eyes fell onto Connor’s clothing as soon as he turned around to face him.

“That hoodie suits you better than it ever suited me,” he remarked, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. However, that quickly fell as soon as Niles noticed the marks on Connor’s throat, “Who did those?”

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, the brunet tugged the collar of the hoodie upwards in a futile attempt to hide the hickeys.

“No one you should be concerned about it,” he replied, feeling his face burning up.

“Do I know him?” said Niles as he took a step towards Connor, setting his hand over his brother’s as he moved it away from his neck. Placing his other beneath his chin, he moved his head to the side to have a better look at the fading bruises on his skin. Connor relaxed under his touch and didn’t put up any resistance, trusting his brother as he gave Ralph’s markings on him a once over.

“Yes but, it was a one-time thing. We didn’t go far and he didn’t force me into anything if that’s what you’re worried about,” murmured Connor as Niles pulled away from him. The blue-eyed male remained silent and his older brother took this a sign that he was awaiting further explanation.

“Remember, before you got with Gav, you used to go out with Daniel?” started Connor, his voice wavering a bit as he spoke. Niles gave him a nod in acknowledgement, resting his side against the counter beside the still open fridge.

“And you used to um, make it obvious so that Gavin would notice and start paying attention to you?”

“Reed always paid attention to me,” interjected Niles, “But he was stubborn when it came to actually speaking with me, to admit his feelings. It was merely a way of me getting him pissed and frustrated enough to open up. Because he’s just that type of hot-headed person. I’m not sure what game you’re playing here Con but, it won’t have the same effect on everyone. It might not work in the same manner.”

At these words, the brunet felt a chill course through his body, breaking into a cold sweat. Of course, he had thought about his methods not working on Father Anderson but hearing the statement coming out loud and what's more, from his own brother, he felt the reality of the situation crashing down on him.

Niles must’ve noticed the shift in Connor’s body language, the way he went stiff after hearing his words, and moved forward once again, leaning down a little to wrap his arms around his older brother. Connor hugged him back, exhaling deeply against the leather jacket covering his chest.

“I miss you, Niles,” he muttered against the hard fabric, gently scraping the side of his cheek against one of the many zippers covering the garment.

Niles moved a hand upwards and rested it over the top of Connor’s head, stroking his damp hair in a comforting manner and that was enough to show the brunet that his brother felt the same way too.

Their moment of silent bonding was abruptly interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the staircase and Connor felt himself freeze in his brother’s arms. Niles quickly unwrapped himself from his embrace around his older brother and placed a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him downwards as he whispered, with the smirk resurfacing to his face, “Reverse drill three,” and Connor immediately knew what he had to do.

Niles almost closed the fridge’s door all the way and took a step away from it to make sure that the only discernible thing about him was his form, without any light shining on him as Connor kneeled on the floor behind him, pressed up against the bottom of one of the cabinets in an attempt to hide himself. A few seconds later, their mother’s figure appeared on the staircase across the archway leading to the kitchen.

“Niles? Is that you?” she called out.

“No mum, it’s just me,” spoke Connor from behind Niles and the other male stood there unmoving.

“I could have sworn you were your brother,” she said, “I thought I heard his voice.”

“I just came down for a drink,” said Connor, interrupting what would have been another brooding lament about Niles from their mother.

There are a few moments of silence before she spoke up again.

“Right. Don’t keep the fridge door open too long.”

“Okay, ma.”

And with that, Connor could hear her steps as she went up the stairs again until there was a lull stillness once more.

Niles finally closed the fridge as his brother stood back up again, a cheeky grin plastered on both their faces and Connor felt as if they were back at being six and five years old again. They used to play this trick on their parents all the time when they were younger, and neither their mother nor their father ever managed to realise and call them out on it. As the pair faced each other once more, Niles gave his brother’s shoulder a quick squeeze before picking up his bag from the floor and as he started to zip it back close, Connor spoke up.

“What were you looking for anyway?”

Niles paused his actions and placed a hand in the bag, rooting around in it until he found what he was looking for. When he took out his hand again, it was firmly clasped around a large jar of mayo.

“Gavin was craving one of his disgusting late-night mayo packed sandwiches and we were out of it. He didn’t feel like driving to the nearest 7/11 and your fridge is closer to where we were,” he explained before putting the jar back into his backpack and closing it all the way. Connor hid a silent laugh behind his hand, amused at how affectionate his normally stoic and cold brother can be to other people apart from him. Niles noticed his expression and looked away, and in the dark Connor wasn’t sure if he was sheepishly smiling as well.

The pair walked towards the door together and waited in a comfortable silence for Gavin to come and pick Niles up. A few minutes later, the sound of the man’s motorcycle could be heard tearing through the quiet night as he appeared in the street in front of the house. As the brothers said their goodbyes, Niles told Connor to talk to whoever the guy he’s interested in about what he felt.

“If anything, even if nothing happens, if he rejects you altogether, you can use that as an incentive to move on from this,” he told him before giving him one last hug. Connor nodded in response and his brother let go of him to make his way down the pathway leading to were Gavin was waiting for him. Swinging one of his tall legs behind the other man, he sat on the back of the bike, hands fastening around the driver’s waist before he revved up the vehicle and drove off.

Connor stood there, until the two of them were completely out of sight, before skulking back into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's one-thirsty-five o'clock. This was one of my favourite chapters to write just because of the interactions between Connor and Niles when they're portrayed as brothers.


	12. Parousia

“Um, Connor? You’re using your teeth again.”

The brunet looked up, his caramel eyes meeting with the other’s hazel ones as he let his member slip out of his mouth, however, still remaining firm in his grip.

“Am I?” he said, his voice coming out a little raspy due to the prolonged number of minutes he spent between the other boy’s legs.

Ralph’s face had a ruddy flush to it, eyes alertly looking away from Connor as he voiced aloud his inquiry. The two of them had fallen in a comfortable ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement. Connor couldn’t really pinpoint the exact words they uttered when they initially came up with the agreement- it just, happened. After their first time getting intimate with one another following the movie Ralph had picked out, Connor had dropped by another time during the morning preceding the shopping trip with his mother. But the two hadn’t done much with one another except exchange a couple of languid kisses and talk things out. They both established to one another their feelings for the different men they were pining after, although Connor didn’t talk as much as the blond male about his situation. Ralph didn’t even know the identity of the person of his friend’s affection yet Connor knew everything he needed to know about Jerry, be it from his prior knowledge on him plus from Ralph’s incessant swooning over him. They came to terms of mutualistic benefit; they loosely put it as, ‘using’ one another to try out new things, to let out their frustrations- just how they did the first time Ralph had Connor over. But at that time the exchange of consent had been silent, only brought about by Connor’s careful ministrations.

Back to the present, it was Friday evening and like the last three times Connor went to Ralph’s that week, his mum thought he was at church. Only this time, Ralph’s parents were downstairs and thought that the brunet was only there to see a movie with their son. Little did they know of the debauchery that was going on in the small, plant infested bedroom as the screams of Shelley Duvall rang from the laptop on the other end of the bed. Maybe putting on ‘The Shining’ in the background wasn’t the best movie choice but if anything, it muffled out any lewd sounds that might escape the pair. Ralph’s parents also clearly had no issue with hearing shrill screeching coming from their son’s room as they enjoyed a calm and educational nature documentary downstairs. Beat having a musical playing- he didn’t want to hear Ralph hum the show jingle from ‘Hairspray’ while he had his dick half buried down Connor’s throat. Or stop whatever they were doing because he needed a moment to gush over Keanu Reeves after putting on ‘The Matrix’ like he had last time Connor was over, although the brunet had to admit, Neo's actor was really an attractive man- at every age.

Ralph gave him a small nod to affirm his words and with a small sigh, Connor leaned back down and took the blond male back in his mouth. He ran his tongue along the side of the other’s shaft, circling the tip with it as the taste of pre-come enveloped his mouth before taking down as much of it as he could. The last time the brunet had tried to deep throat the other, he ended up gagging on him because he did it too fast. He felt Ralph’s fingers slip into his hair and his already half-hard dick gave an interested twitch. A few moments later, Ralph pulled the brunet off his cock with a somewhat forceful tug from his brown curls, eliciting a moan from Connor at having his hair pulled so roughly, before coming over his face and the front of his chest with a low groan.

After coming down from his post-orgasm high, Ralph’s eyes dropped back to Connor and a grin formed on his lips before leaning forwards and pulling him up towards him, gently planting a kiss on his lips, followed by smaller kisses all over his sullied face.

“Tell me you were going to do that next time, you got my shirt dirty,” huffed Connor, regretting his choice to keep his top on, but whatever other words of complaint he was planning to say died on his lips when he sensed Ralph’s hand on his tented briefs. The brunet felt his face go red as the other slipped a hand beneath his waistband and wrapped his fingers around him, trapping Connor’s mouth with his own as he started to return the favour. Their tongues met inside of Connor’s mouth as Ralph steered the kiss into a more heated, messy direction.

Suddenly, the blond’s fingers were gone from around Connor and one of the digits was pressing against his hole. At this, Connor hastily broke the kiss, placing his hands on Ralph’s chest as he spoke.

“I don’t think I’m ready to go there yet. As in, we agreed on it haven’t we?”

“Not even just the fingers?” piped up Ralph as he pressed their foreheads together, looking at Connor with a hopeful expression on his face, “It’s not 'all the way'. Ralph is saving that for someone else.”

Connor looked away from the blond male, thinking about his proposition. True they had set boundaries such as that they wouldn’t truly do actual intercourse. Yet the premise of someone else’s fingers inside of him made his dick stir against Ralph’s arm. Having someone else stimulating him from inside would be different than when he did it. Besides, he could always close his eyes and picture it was someone else stretching him open.

He gave the other a small nod before lying back down on the bed, sighing softly as Ralph slid off his underwear. Connor looked away, his eyes fluttering shut as he spread his legs for the blond male to settle in between them. Ralph leaned above him, gently pressing his fingers against the brunet’s lips which Connor eagerly parted to allow inside. Sliding his tongue around them, he coated them with his saliva and when there was an adequate amount, Ralph retracted them from his mouth and moved them down towards his entrance once more. He pressed against the ring of muscle and shoved a finger in.

The sensation of the digit moving in and out of him was just slightly uncomfortable at first but as the other added a second and then a third finger inside, Connor found himself articulating a string of lewd noises from his mouth. The brunet came undone the second Ralph arched his fingers at a different angle, hitting his sensitive bundle of nervous which sent Connor into his climax, rocking his hips against Ralph's fingers as he came all over himself.

Per their acquired routine, they snuggled against one another after cleaning up and putting their clothes back on, relishing in each other's embrace while blankly staring at the final scene and credits of the video playing on Ralph's device, not really focusing as their hands subconsciously caressed each other's hair and back.

Connor's one-track mind fell back into thinking about Father Anderson and Niles's words to him- and he only wished he had it as easy as him to make his affection for another man work out.

* * *

The next morning, Connor’s mum had a daytime shift which meant he had to stay at home. So he allowed himself to sleep in, waste his morning in bed, and indulge in too many pancakes and fried bacon strips at one in the afternoon for a very late breakfast and lunch. After that, he plopped himself down on the sofa and dozed off. He dreamt about the confessional booth, a replay of his episode with Father Anderson, only, after Connor voiced out his wrongdoings, he gave him a different penitence to serve. Suddenly Connor was sitting on the ground in front of the older man, resting on his knees between the other’s legs. The priest’s eyes with their usual bright blue colour were fixated on him as he rolled up his sacred vestments to reveal an arousal to rival Connor’s own. And then, in the same tone he used to preach out his sermons, he ordered Connor to put his filthy mouth where it belonged, to blow him off for forgiveness.

Connor woke up with a startle, groaning upon noticing his erection. Talk about an uncontrollable libido. Spotting his tablet from the corner of his eye, he reached out for it and within minutes, he was scrolling through porn sites through it as he lazily palmed himself through his thin shorts.

After a while, he sighed in annoyance as he put the tablet down on the coffee table next to him, giving up on finding a video that suited his liking and it was then, that the doorbell rang.

Glancing over in the general direction of the hallway, Connor considered ignoring the visitor. Besides, who would be visiting anyway? It couldn’t be his mother and it definitely wasn’t his brother. However, bored with literally nothing else to do, he lifted himself up from the sofa, straightened his oversized sweater and pulled it down at the front to cover his still raging boner. He padded down the hallway, past the kitchen and over to the main door of the house. It didn’t occur to Connor to look through the peep-hole before opening the door so he definitely wasn’t prepared for the sight in front of him when he did.

“Good afternoon. We’re currently doing house visits and rites of … blessing ... ”

Father Anderson’s voice trailed off a little when he noticed Connor.

“Oh, hi Connor. Is um … is your mum here?” he said, looking over the brunet’s shoulder, half expecting the older adult of the house lingering behind him.

Connor swallowed nervously as a multitude of thoughts and ideas washed over his mind before speaking up.

“I’m afraid she’s at work right now but-“

“That’s okay, I can come back another time,” interjected the priest, already stepping back to turn away and without thinking, Connor reached out and grabbed him by the sleeve of his garment.

“Wait,” he said as he looked up at the older man, a sweet smile forming on his face as he gazed at him with his big, brown eyes, “You came all this way um, you could still do them, no? The blessings?”

Father Anderson exhaled deeply, his brows furrowed together.

“Well, it’s best if your mother is here as well-“

“At least let me offer you a drink, Father.”

The words were out of Connor's mouth before he could process them. However, at the back of his mind, he knew that this was the perfect opportunity to do as his brother told him to. He doubted that he'll ever have another opportunity to be alone with the older man like this, away from the church and out of the public's eye. The brunet's advance was met with silence as a thoughtful expression clouded Father Anderson's face. Connor's fingers around the other's sleeve held onto it as if he were holding on for dear life, his expression downright pleading him to oblige in his request.

After what felt like an hour, Father Anderson finally let out a defeated sigh and gave the younger male a curt nod.

"Alright, but I can't stay long. I got other houses to visit," he sighed and stepped in the house after Connor moved out of the way to lead him to the living room with new-found enthusiasm.

The living room inside the brunet's house was quite small, with an old, ornate sofa in its centre and a matching armchair next to it, both angled in a way so that they faced the television hanging from the wall across. Father Anderson planted himself on the armchair after Connor offered him to do so.

"I'll get you your drink. Is there anything in particular that you'd like?" asked the brunet as soon as the other settled down.

"Just water would be enough," came Father Anderson's muttered response to which Connor nodded before sauntering down the corridor towards the kitchen.

Of course, Connor wasn't going to offer the priest water. That would be a wasted opportunity. So he made a bee-line to a small cupboard in the corner of the room an from it procured a still sealed bottle of wine.

Connor himself, despite being of legal drinking age, never tasted a drop of alcohol in his entire life.

"There's a first time for everything," he mumbled to himself as he closed the cabinet door with the back of his foot and made his way towards the counter. Placing the bottle down, he opened the over-heard cupboard and took down two dark coloured mugs. He looked around a couple of drawers for a bottle cork opener and when he did, he wasted no time in popping off the cork plug from the glass bottle and pour two hearty cups of wine for him and his special guest. When the task was accomplished, he put the stopper back on the bottle and placed it away before heading back to the living room.

"I'd like to apologise for my deviant behaviour as of lately when attending your masses," Connor started to say, having practised his words while fixing their drinks, "I know it's not much but I'd like to give offer this to you as a peace offering."

As the brunet handed the mug to him, a puzzled expression appeared on Father Anderson's features before his mouth formed a small circle in surprise.

"Uhh Connor, you know, offering wine to a man of the church isn't really ... well ... "

As Father Anderson struggled with finding an appropriate way of vocalising his discomfort, Connor took a sip of his helping of the wine. The red liquid tasted dry in his mouth and he held back a grimace at it as he forced himself to swallow it.

"It's just _wine_ , Father Anderson. Don't you drink it at mass all the time?"

"But that's different ... that's diluted," replied the other man as he gripped his cup tighter.

Connor stared at him, with a determined look in his eyes before moving his wine back to his lips and tipping his head back as he chugged down the entirety of the cup. Due to him being a first-time drinker, the rush of the alcohol working in his systems hit him all at once and he felt slightly dazed for a moment after consuming such a relatively large amount at once.

It was now or never.

He placed his cup down on the first surface he spotted before marching over to Father Anderson. His now dissolved inhibitions allowed him enough willpower to tower over the other man with his hands on either side of his shoulders against the back of the massive chair.

"I suggest you drink it," he said, voice low and slightly hoarse from the alcohol burn, "I have some questions to ask you and I think you'll need that to remain transparent with me.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm not sure if spontaneous house visits to 'bless' the place and family are common as they are where I'm from but if you're not aware of they're existence, it's pretty self-explanatory.)
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> This concludes the first part of the first half of this journey. 
> 
> First of all, I'd like to thank all you nerds who are still reading this filth. Your comments really make my day so please, don't hold back from them. <3
> 
> Secondly, there won't be an update next Sunday however, we'll be back on the Wednesday after with a different character's POV. I'm pretty sure you can easily guess whose.
> 
> And thirdly, thank you all so much once more!
> 
> 11/7/18 Update: I've become a little overwhelmed with school stuff so the next chapter will be out sometime in the upcoming week or two. Apologies for the delay!


	13. Anderson's Narrative

> “When the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was desirable to make one wise, she took from its fruit and ate; and she gave also to her husband with her, and he ate.”
> 
> - **Genesis 3:6**


	14. Parallel Passage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: There's some mention of homophobic language and typical Religious queer guilt tripping in this chapter.

> _**Prima Lettura** _

As soon as the sacristy cleared out, Hank’s plastered smile peeled off his face as he yanked the stole from around his neck with a little more force than necessary. One of his hands reached up to his collar, loosening it from the back and letting it pop open as he rested his other palm on the table in front of him. He inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes as he tried to calm himself down. He knew that a life in vestments wasn’t easy however, he didn’t expect himself to have thoughts of temptation so quickly.

When he first approached the young man during the BBQ earlier in the month, he thought he was innocent and naive. Looking back now, however, at his gaping expression, the light tint of redness to his cheeks and somewhat jumpy, bashful behaviour when they talked, he could have realised of the danger. At it only got worse the more they ran into each other, both during masses and in their separate morning walks. Their exchange of words in the confessional and the hungry look he gave him during the eucharistical sacrament pretty much sealed the ordeal for him- that he had to avoid Connor at all costs. Father Anderson was a priest first and foremost, he had morals and a code of ethics to follow. Through God, he let go of his alcoholism and is redeeming himself from the death of his son and wife. Sounded easy enough of paper, when he took the sacred scriptures in his hands the first time after being ordained and held his first sermon.

Now, just a few months in, he was already facing an obstacle that would halt the progression of his mission, make it stagnant and perhaps, even deteriorate. He displayed hesitation when answering the brunet and his thoughts remained clouded with doubt and unease throughout the hour following that. Sighing heavily, he moved over to the small kitchenette at the back of the sacristy and poured himself a glass of cold water, leaning back against the sink as he took slow, hefty gulps till it was empty. Rinsing it lightly after he was done from using it, he proceeded to place the now clean cup from where he procured it from the cabinet. He carried on undressing once returning to the main section of the room, removing his alb and fixing his clerical collar back in place before folding up the non-needed vestments and storing them away in the appropriate hangers and drawers. Throwing on a dark jacket, he made his way out from the back exit, making a bee-line to where his car was parked.

From the corner of his eye, he could see a few of the church attendees still chatting outside the main entrance of the building, scattered over the stairs leading up to it, huddled in little groups. Briefly, he turned his head to look at them, spotting the all-too-familiar face of the mother whose son he had just vowed to avoid a few minutes ago. Quickly, he looked away once more and hurried to his car, climbing into it and slamming the door shut behind him, slightly wincing at the loud noise it made before sighing again and turned on the vehicle’s ignition as his hands clutched the wheel and started to drive home.

>   _ **Salmo Responsoriale**_

It wasn’t that Hank actually reciprocated any feelings of desire or lust for the brunet- he was scared, however, that the carnal sin would arise if he was near him. If he didn’t cut the weed before it killed the cultivated plants surrounding it. His behaviour had to be perfect, he had to be exemplary. That’s a man of God after all. Then why was he brooding over the matter so much, if he knew what was wrong and made a strong resolution against it? It could be the nerves, the anxiety. He was near his fifties after all.

These thoughts washed over Hank’s mind as he got out of his car on his way to the grocery store. Working at the church didn’t really provide him with a normal method of pay, however, he got an allowance to buy himself the necessities. It didn't take him long to fill up his shopping basket with a fresh loaf of sliced bread, milk and eggs at the top to cover the bottom half full of instant noodles, microwavable preassembled burgers and 2-minute soup packs. As he hurried along the aisles, he had to take short pauses to converse when people approached him, politely nod and wish them a good afternoon or hear them gush about how well their children are doing in Religion class at school. Hank wasn't even aware those were still a thing- reflecting on how still out of touch he was with the proceedings and teachings of the conservative Detroit town. At one point he was also interrupted by a little girl whose family sat in the front rows at church when she noticed him picking up a bag of dog food, asking him if he owned a dog, what breed he was and whether she could go and see him one day. For once, he was glad when he saw her mother approach them to drag her away, apologising for her imprudence.

He was about to head over to check out when he realised he forgot to add one crucial item to his haphazard mental shopping list. Swiftly, he made his way to the instant food aisle and picked up a couple of familiar blue boxes containing mac and cheese. Moving one of the eggs cartoons, he buried the boxes beneath before covering them up again with his less unhealthy indulgences. Once more, he started to move towards the counter to pay for his items when he was unsurprisingly stopped again by a not-so-welcome voice.

"Oh, Father Anderson, fancy running into you here!"

Dorothy? Annabelle? Amanda? Heck if he knew her name but he knew her son's and that was enough to already start planning an escape from her. He was already turning around, pretending he didn't hear her when he felt her tap him on the shoulder and knew, that avoiding conversation with her was unavoidable now. And it wasn't his issue about Connor that made him resent talking to her but because she would drawl on and on for minutes- hours if given the chance, clearly- about anything just to keep a conversation going on between them for no other reason, according to him, then to test his patience and annoy him. It had to be, and this caused him to harbour a great dislike for the woman. For her manner of speech and her voice and her incessant complaining about everything.

He tuned out her words, nodding when he deemed it appropriate, eyes occasionally shifting to see if he could find any possible distraction from her to focus on or to use to get away. But alas, not only did he find none, he agreed to one word she said too many because suddenly, her face lights up and breaks into a smile as he hears her say, "Really? That's wonderful! Me and Connor would truly appreciate that!" And before he could try and fathom what he had just agreed to, steer the conversation back to a point where she would mention what favour he was doomed to carry out, he felt something stumble against his back.

It was on cue really, that at that moment Connor chose to walk into him, can of mac and cheese in hand (Hank took note of the brand labelled on it and instantly recognised it as one of the finer brand of the cheesy instant pasta, more exquisite and creamy than the boxes he picked out for himself) and slightly over-sized turtleneck draped over his lithe frame. Instinctively, Hank's eyes went over to the brunet's neck where only the day before was concrete proof of the youth's lecherous acts. The priest's eyes locked with the other's soft brown ones as he tried to think of literally everything else apart from whether the too-big top he was wearing belonged to his recent lover.

“Oh Connor! Father Anderson has offered to drive us home since the weather doesn’t seem like it’s getting better any time soon- isn’t that wonderful?”

Ah, so that's what he agreed to. He unwillingly willingly put himself in a small confined area with Connor once again. His throat felt dry, unable to come up with any semblance of words as he observed the brunet chew on his bottom lip in an absent-minded manner- a practice that exerted temptation for those who were weak enough to fall for it. He was thankful when a loud noise resonated behind him, giving him an excuse - not that he was supposed to need one in the first place - to look away from the other and at a completely different situation. However, he was quick to discover that it wasn't such a different series of circumstances after all.

“Fucking faggots, why don’t you go fuck up somewhere else with your disgusting behaviour? Disgusting filth- that’s what you are!”

Homosexuals.

The word rang in his head like an alarm-bell. He didn't intervene in the scene, which one could easily interpret as a message from the saviour himself in correlation to Hank's prior train of thought. It was a sign of the true result of queer feelings and ideas. The wondered who was worse of the three; the person aggressively calling out their sin, the sinner quietly accepting his penitence or the sinner who fought back to keep on revelling in his wickedness?

The answer was quite obvious. Of course, it was. It always is when you follow the guidance and words of the Lord. Hank recognised the blond man who retaliated as the elementary school teacher. A false teacher, who set bad examples to the still-developing children of the town. That's what everyone was saying, that's what everyone believed. There was only one true teacher after all, wasn't there?

As quick as the fight broke out, it simmered down, being restrained by the other people filling up the quaint store. In a series of hushed whispers and remarks, customers started making their way to the check-out counter either because they were done from their shopping trip or because they decided to cut it short to get away as fast as possible from the vermin that was threatening to infect them from simply getting their attention focused on them. It was as if keeping their eyes glued onto the scene of the dispute a second longer would get them plagued by the victims' sins and be the cause of their descent down to hell alongside them. Connor's mum too was hurrying over to pay and so he followed her in tow, a couple of feet away from her son as he half walked and was half-dragged behind her with an expression that could only be described as lost in thought. And the priest didn't blame him- he had a lot to think about after witnessing the event they just had. Father Anderson didn't though, he was assertive and secure in his heterosexuality after all. He had a kid and wife and although that relationship ended on a tragic note, he always had God on his side, he was sure of it.

Once outside, Hank noticed that the rain had almost stopped coming down save for a few small drops but the storm clouds remained, indicating that it would start to pour anytime soon once more. A few minutes later, the three of them were inside the dingy car lent to him by the diocese, grocery bags comically filling up every nook and cranny of the vehicle as he started to drive them home. As expected, Connor's mother started babbling about the encounter in the mini-mart, using words such as 'immoral' and 'obscene' to describe the miscreants that were tainting their poster perfect conservative town.

"Don't you agree?"

Hank froze, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter as he kept his eyes fixed on the wet road ahead. He didn't need to glance at the younger male behind him to know that whatever distant look was glossed over his face a few moments ago had been suddenly replaced by one of judgement and expectation, vision focused on him through the small mirror hanging by the left side of his head. This was it, this was the moment where he could severe any action or words he said that were fueling Connor's over-active imagination. Maybe the way he hung onto every word he said would come useful for him to repent and start living a life free of sin and on the right path.

So this is why he didn't even need to sugar coat his choice of words. Something a man believed to be true is something they would not think about twice when vocally projecting it. Brooding on the matter would only make his job exceedingly difficult and he wasn't about that. Father Anderson was a priest, he followed God and his word. He was devout to the church, the same church that helped him through the hardships of losing his son and wife. But he was also once an ordinary, a man of many regrettable mistakes and questionable life choices.

Yet all was forgiven, in the eyes of God, if one spoke his truth and prayers and that was something that he could never stop repeating to himself along with the reason why he got ordained in the first place.

So his answer was clean and clear, a simple three-lettered word.

"Yes."

Out of curiosity, he looked at the rear-view mirror at Connor's reaction, feeling sympathy for him- that's what one does when encountering such people after all. You empathise with them, give them understanding looks, maybe express that through a physical gesture too, followed by a silent apology because one naturally has to be sorry for such unfortunate humans- for straying away from God and not being able to stay away of misbehaviour. And that's exactly how Hank portrayed himself in front of the brunet for the remainder of the car ride and when he was helping them unload their purchased items. Father Anderson kept true to his beliefs and acted on them only, regardless of how brash he was with Connor, he was still met with more blushing faces and small pouts.

It was evident right then, that his approach had backfired and that he could not possibly save the boy. This thought looped through his brain as he drove back to his abode, eyes peering out through the windshield as the rain came down heavy once more, bringing up distant memories from his past.

>   _ **Seconda Lettura**_

It had been a week and a day since Hank had encountered Connor during his dog walks. It had been a week exactly however since he had seen him during his usual morning routine. The brunet had gotten to their common meeting spot a minute earlier than him so when Hank eventually was dragged to it by his over-enthusiastic dog, he saw part of the exchange the brunet was having with a taller, blond male whom he recognised as the son of his botanist neighbours. Very lovely couple with a deep fascination for flora and plants. Their son shared their same enthusiasm and it wasn't the first time that he offered to trim the small bushels outside his front porch. Looking back, Hank can't recall much of his attitude and behaviour from the brief look he gave him when he was talking to Connor. It could be because his attention was focused on the shorter male's choice of clothing; his inappropriately cropped long sleeve top which exposed a strip of skin above his too small shorts.

Indecent.

Shameless.

Wrong.

A part of him knew that the choice of inappropriate clothing was random. It was deliberate because the younger male knew he'd be running into him as he always did daily. Connor would have probably looked at him with those big, brown eyes of his and a faked innocent smile on his face, masking his intentions under an impervious layer of naivety. To Father Anderson, the brunet was like a succubus only worse. While those fiends with unquenchable sensual appetites usually only popped up during night-time hours, Connor attempted to possess him during every possible opportunity.

It was six am and he was heading back home after his methodical walk with the St. Bernard as these thoughts flooded his mind. It was concerning, that even in his free time away from the church he couldn't stop thinking about his mission, his task. Yet, if he didn't think about it or the other factors that came into play alongside with it, what else did he have left to reflect about?

> _**Vangelo** _

House visits were the perfect opportunity to get to know the neighbourhood and the people who reside in it.

This is what Father Anderson has been told by the other priests in his parish and here he was, doing his first round of drop-ins perhaps a few months too late than was optimal as by now, most people knew him or knew of him. This also meant that he could essentially just go in someone's abode, say the required rites and move on to the next without incessant small talk. It was also customary to do such house visits accompanied by an altar boy, but, the ones in their church were currently attending classes so he also had the luxury of going alone. However, this meant that the visitee's attention would be solely focused on him, his words and his actions alone.

He could manage a few of the smaller cul-de-sacs that morning, and that's what he did. Father Anderson knocked on several house doors and was let in. He proceeded with his blessings and prayers, the words "Thee to bless and sanctify this house and all who dwell therein" leaving his mouth in an autonomous fashion after the first few houses as he shook his aspergillum in the main entrances, hallways and living rooms of the dwellings before wishing the residents a "blessed day" and go back out- all in the span of less than five minutes.

And this went on for a couple of hours until early afternoon, only pausing for half an hour when the priest's path led him near his house where he dropped by for a quick snack. He went to his neighbour's house after that, where both adults and Ralph were in. As Father Anderson spoke to the parents, the blond male sat at the small table in the kitchen, reading keenly from an old, dog-eared paperback. He didn't look up at the priest, rather, he became more engrossed in his book and purposively disregarded Father Anderson. An unsettling feeling washed over Hank but he chose to ignore it. So he didn't question it when Ralph's mother called her son over but instead, he got up and made a bee-line upstairs.

It was a couple of houses later, that it dawned on him whose's house was on his route. His initial thought was to skip it, and if anyone asks he could say that no one answered his knock on the door. Hank could go up to it, pretend to knock and back away just in case the neighbours did see him. A notice had gone out the prior day regarding the house visits and some people had actually been expecting him, waiting for him in unnaturally picture perfect poses on chairs around the kitchen table or children in their Sunday clothing all lined up sitting side-by-side on the sofas, too quiet and smiley.

To his dismay, Connor's house had a doorbell and it would have been pretty obvious that he didn't in fact ring it. He could just make an excuse to leave if the mother drawled on for too long and in her presence, he doubted if Connor would try anything devious. With a defeated sigh, Father Anderson brought his finger up and pressed the button, making it ring so obnoxiously loud that he could hear it loud and clear from where he was standing outside. A few seconds later, he heard footsteps approaching the door, the din of bare feet hitting against what sounded like wooden flooring. As soon as the door clicked up, he wasted no time in stating his greeting and intent.

“Good afternoon. We’re currently doing house visits and rites of … blessing ... ”

His throat went dry when his eyes landed on the younger man standing at the doorway. Connor's hair was mussed as if he had just fallen out of bed but his flushed cheeks said otherwise and Hank could see that he was _very much awake_ by the way he was pulling his large sweater down from the front over a pair of shorts so small that it was almost all covered by his top apart from the hem. Father Anderson spoke again, averting eye contact with the brunet as he did.

“Oh, hi Connor. Is um … is your mum here?”

His words didn't come out as assertive as he wanted them to but he didn't dwell about it as he focused his attention on the multiple framed pictures covering the walls of the corridor behind Connor.

“I’m afraid she’s at work right now but-"

He interrupted Connor before he could finish his sentence, a red flag appearing in his mind, already suspecting what was coming after the word 'but'.  
  
“That’s okay, I can come back another time,” he said, sharply turning around and already lifting his foot to start walking away. But of course, the devil wouldn't let Father Anderson go off that easily as almost immediately he heard the other voice out a small "wait" followed by a tug on his clothing. Of course, Connor would ask him to stay but it wasn't for him to proceed with his job. As soon as the door closed behind him, he knew that the other would pull another stint similar to what he did at church almost a week ago. Yet he turned around to face him again anyway because regardless of his feelings, Father Anderson was polite.

“You came all this way um, you could still do them, no? The blessings?”

Connor was smiling at him, eyes big and pleading- just how his dog's would be after a scolding for dragging in mud covered objects from outside after heavy rainfall or when he wanted to be fed. Hank looked over his shoulder again, eyes wandering to one particular frame encasing a family portrait and felt himself freeze on the spot.

He had a brother?

Hank wasn't aware of this information, and Connor's mum never mentioned having another son. He could have talked to her if she were there, bring up the photo and see whether she would speak up or avoid the conversation.

“Well, it’s best if your mother is here as well-" Hank started to say, his curiosity wanting to postpone the visit for the sake of knowing the truth but this time, he was the one who got interrupted.

“At least let me offer you a drink, Father.”

Connor clearly took after his mother, her most prominent trait- determination. Maybe he could use the brunet's willingness to have him there to ask about his sibling, Exhaling strongly, Hank nodded and finally agreed to go inside.

"Alright, but I can't stay long. I got other houses to visit," he said. Upon hearing his words, the younger male stepped aside to allow him in, face beaming as he closed the door behind Father Anderson and took him down the hallway. A few moments later, Hank found himself sitting alone on an armchair in a room that looked like the interior of an antique store sans the flatscreen TV and the tablet lying face down on the coffee table. Glancing over to the sofa, the older man noticed that it had been recently sat on from the creases in the fabric and the dented area in its cushion were it hadn't risen back up yet- making it safe to assume that before Father Anderson barged in, Connor was probably sitting there and entertaining himself with the techy device resting half over the edge of the small table. Checking whether was coming back with his water, Hank quickly made a grab for the tablet when he saw it was still safe to do so and flipped it over. Looking down at the muted video the other left to play on the screen, Hank was more surprised that Connor hadn't locked the device rather than the content he was browsing before his arrival.

Just then, he could hear footsteps coming down the corridor and as quickly as he swiped it, he put the device back where it was as it was on the coffee table and settled back down in the large armchair. Well, it wasn't large for him due to his stature but it would dwarf the younger male if he sat on it himself.

"I'd like to apologise for my deviant behaviour as of lately when attending your masses," said Connor as he appeared back in the room, holding a mug in each hand, "I know it's not much but I'd like to give offer this to you as a peace offering."

Hank raised an eyebrow, confused for a second at the other's words as one of the black mugs was thrust in his hands before his expression turned into one of surprise. He didn't need to look down at the red liquid inside the cup- he knew the smell of wine well enough.

It was then that the red flag turned into a red alarm, blaring loudly in his head like a police siren.

"Uhh Connor, you know, offering wine to a man of the church isn't really ... well ..."

The brunet took a swing from his own mug, Hank noticing the grimace he attempted to mask. Probably a first-time drinker- he knew that expression well enough.

"It's just wine, Father Anderson. Don't you drink it at mass all the time?" said Connor after successfully downing his sip.

Father Anderson clutched his wine tighter as he spoke, "But that's different ... that's diluted."

Connor bit down on his lip as he did last time he was face-to-face with the priest. Before he could wear out his bottom lip with nervous chewing, however, he put his cup to his mouth, knuckles white around its handle as he swallowed his wine down. He stood still for a moment, letting the alcohol wash over him before putting the mug down on the coffee table, using his tablet as a coaster. After that, his attention was fully focused on Father Anderson once more and the latter took a deep breath when the youth stumbled forwards towards him. The armchair wasn't that set that high off the ground so Connor managed to reach and put a hand by each of his shoulders, turning his face up to look at Father Anderson again. His cheeks had become ruddier, lips with a sheer red stain over them as the priest gave him a quick look over. From his angle, Hank could see down the front of the sweater's gaping boatneck and that up close, he noticed the faintest of marks on the other's skin were the hickeys he proudly put on display had been.

"I suggest you drink it," said Connor, speaking slowly to prevent his words from coming out slurred, "I have some questions to ask you and I think you'll need that to remain transparent with me."

Hank had questions too, so many to ask. But he was Father Anderson, an exemplary priest who gave up his alcohol addiction in favour of getting closer to the righteous path.

Connor was leaning down closer to him now, his hands sliding over his shoulders, fingers lightly brushing against his exposed skin above his collar as he waited. He didn't nervously fidget with his lip and he didn't back away- he was waiting for an answer. Hank wasn't going to decline such a chance to pick out information out of the other.

That would be a wasted opportunity.

"What'd you say, Father?" breathed out the intoxicated male and the priest huffed, placing one of his hands against his chest and pushed him off him, already smelling the alcohol on the other's breath. Connor took a couple of steps backwards, a pout forming on his mouth as he let out a small whine in annoyance at being forced away.

"You don't need to be that close to me to speak- I can hear you well enough from there," said Father Anderson sternly as he raised his wine-filled mug up.

A glimmer appeared in Connor's eyes as they followed the movement of the hand that was holding the drink but he didn't speak, merely gasped at the realisation that the priest might actually go along with his suggestion. No, not suggestion- demand.

Hank looked down at his barely visible reflection on the surface of the red liquid and then back at Connor.

To heck with it.

Hank brought the mug up between his lips, closely watching for Connor's reaction from the side of his eye as he poured the contents of the cup down his throat and drank the wine within seconds.

Once he was finished, he momentarily closed his eyes as his body absorbed the shock of the sudden intake of alcohol before putting the mug down. It would take much more than that to get the man anywhere near intoxicated but by the looks of it, it seemed that for the time being it placated Connor enough.

Leaning back in his seat, the older man crossed his arms over his chest as he opened his mouth to speak.

"So kid ... what exactly do you wanna know?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delayed update, got a little over-whelmed by work but here we are. From now onwards, updates might be a bit more sporadic but at least one will happen every one or two weeks. ^^


	15. Aspersion

Hank was alone in the living room once more.

After a minute of dumb-founded silence from Connor, mouth agape and eyes wide with incredulity, the younger male excused himself and rushed off down the hallway. Hank counted the seconds the brunet was gone, focusing on incrementing the number in front of his resting eyes to avoid thinking about anything else. He counted forty. It took the Devil forty days to try to tempt Christ into damnation after wandering in the wilderness to avoid him in the first place and Father Anderson had the same amount in seconds to prepare for his own trial against sin.

Forty. It was a number that will keep haunting Hank since the day he reached it in age.

The sound of uncoordinated footsteps reached Hank's ears at the count of thirty-five with Connor fully appearing in front of him at the strike of forty, clutching a wine bottle in one hand. He moved over to pick up Father Anderson's cup, taking a swing directly from the bottle before bringing it to the rim of the mug and filling it up with the red liquid. He wasn't going to let the older man off easily, clearly, as Hank noted when the wine was handed over to him once more. As he took hold of the cup, keeping his face as neutral as possible, Connor placed the now half-empty bottle next to his discarded mug before sitting down on the floor in front of Hank, resting to the side with his legs tucked underneath him and sporting a wicked smile on his face. He probably thought he had the upper hand, that he had actually managed to convince the priest to comply to what he wanted but Hank was only letting him take reign for the moment to chase his own agenda at the end. Hank would have taken pity at the brunet's simple-mindedness but in his current situation, Father Anderson didn't.

"So," started Connor, eyes looking up at the older man as he spoke, "What's your first name? Father Anderson is quite a ... _mouthful_." As he said that, his warm, brown eyes fell down from the other man's face, trailing down hungrily down his front till they stopped at the nearest point possible near his crotch area from where Connor could see from his current position. Hank couldn't help but feel that the situation he was in resembled specifically the start of one bad porno. Before he could indulge in that memory any further, he brought his drink to his lips and drank before speaking again.

"Henry," he said cautiously. He was entering dangerous grounds now.

No, not entering- he passed by that line the second he had first willingly thought about the boy but he was nearing a zone that could combust any moment if he was too compliant or too obstinate.

"Henry," echoed Connor, the name rolling off his tongue like it was a delectable treat. 'Henry' took another sip from his wine, briefly wondering how his actual name would sound coming out of the brunet's mouth before taking his turn in questioning the other.

Hank considered what to say for a moment before finally speaking. "Why are you so ... _interested_ in me?" said Hank, settling on that phrasing in lack of better wording. The brunet first responded physically; his cheeks reddening and his eyelashes fluttering as he looked away and back to Father Anderson again.

"There's something different about you," he murmured, "I can't exactly place my finger on it but, you don't act conventionally."

Hank furrowed his brows, squinting down at Connor. "Conventionally? In what way?"

The younger male paused, a thoughtful look flashing across his face before speaking once more, "It's the way you act, outside of the church, when you're with people or alone." He sat up properly on his knees before placing his hands on the priest's thigh area and lifting himself up.

"There's a certain look in your eyes when you talk that makes me doubt how much you mean what you say," he continued, applying pressure to Father Anderson's legs to spread them slightly so he can settle himself between them. Hank allowed him to, to egg him on yet he could also feel a nervous sweat build up in his own being. Connor's grip left the area where he was grabbing the priest over the dark, soft fabric of his cassock only to move his hands over onto his shoulders before leaning against his ear to speak.

"And I have a feeling that you might be just as interested back," he uttered, close enough for Hank to feel his hot breath against his skin as he vocalised his thoughts, "Or am I wrong?"

The older man put his wine down next to Connor's on the small coffee table under the brunet's relentless gaze on him as he carefully weighed out the possible answers he could reply with before settling onto one.

"Maybe," he said, the singular word eliciting a soft gasp from the younger male.

"But that's not a yes, isn't it?" said Connor, a tinge of excitement creeping into his tone of voice.

"One question at a time," said Hank sternly to which Connor replied with a pout but didn't complain- despite the statement being contradictory as Hank himself had just asked a query to the other male two times in a row.

"Ok, Father," breathed out the intoxicated male before lifting his legs up to rest on either of Hank's sides, arms snaking around his neck as he settled on his lap. The latter took a sharp breath at the almost sultry manner Connor articulated his title, raising his hands in front of him to keep him from fully pressing himself up against him. Father Anderson could feel the younger man's stiffy against his thigh but held himself back from making a remark and pushing the other back again. On the other hand, however, Connor took the minor resistance from the priest as a go-ahead, gently rocking his hips against the older male's with an expectant look on his features as he leaned forward anew, his face mere inches away from Hank's. Discerning the escalation of events, the older man looked away from him, turning his head to the side, earning him a small whine from the youth. Connor didn't back down, however, grabbing at his garments as he clambered more over him. Father Anderson was about to warn him to cease his unsolicited actions when the sound of something metal hitting the ground was heard. Pausing, Connor- as well as Hank- looked in the general direction of the sound. In the small hustle, the cassock's fascia became loose which made the aspergillum which the priest was carrying in said sash slip out and somehow roll down to the floor beneath them.

The brunet almost immediately leaned over the side of the armchair, nearly toppling himself over where it not for Hank's hands instinctively seizing him by the hips before the priest himself could register his own actions, and swiped the object off the ground before sitting back up again. The shirt had slightly ridden up where Hank had blindly clutched on the other's body, his hands brushing over a strip of now exposed skin, burning beneath the pads of his fingertips on contact.

Connor held the aspergillum in one hand in front of him, curiously flipping the metal rod and looking at it. The impact on the floor had seemingly broken some type of stopper inside of it as it was dripping water down the brunet's arm.

"Did you know that one of the earliest mentions of these is in your favourite book of the Bible? But they used to tie a bird to a stick with leaves and flowers and dip it in the blood of a freshly killed one instead," said Connor, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his ruddy cheeks.

"My favourite book?" said Hank, an eyebrow quirking upwards as he let go of one hand from Connor to grab his cup of wine once more.

"Leviticus," hummed the brunet, causing the priest to go rigid beneath him, stopping his action to take a swing from his drink mid-way, "And now since you asked a question, it's my turn again."

If Father Anderson could curse the other one out, he would have brought the house down with swearing at that current moment. He planned it, saw the chance and took it, one-upping Hank's own smarts.

"The church says one thing but, do you personally really mean it? Believe it? The other day, at the market before you drove us home... do you really agree that people like me are immoral? Obscene? That those two deserved what happened to them?" said Connor, speaking slowly, calculating his words, aiming each one like a lethal shot towards the priest.

A trick question.

"There's the way of the Lord, those who don't follow it are the ones at a loss. I only preach what's right," said Father Anderson, cementing an icy cold glare on his features.

"You say that," coos Connor, sliding up closer on Hank's lap until their chests touched, "But being this close to a man is exciting you, isn't it?" The brunet ground his hips downwards and sure enough, he was met with a hardness between Hank's legs. The older male knew he wasn't that turned on by the other's actions, focusing his mind on his task lowered his levels of arousal considerably and the alcohol wasn't the best stimulator due to his age. And either way, he was wearing enough layers of clothing to hide any possible indications of a growing chub. So there was only one other plausible explanation to what Connor was rutting against and it was because of this that Hank felt himself getting on edge.

"Don't deny it," purred Connor against his ear as he slid his free hand dangerously close to Hank's crotch yet it was immediately snatched away by the wrist and pinned against his back.

"Don't even think about it, you minx," hissed Father Anderson in a gruff voice but this only seemed to spur Connor on as it always does, the roughness of the other man's action procuring a soft moan from him.

The brunet didn't say a word, brown eyes locked with Hank's blue ones in a stare that could only indicate that something was brewing inside his mind. Tentatively, he brought the aspergillum up to his mouth, prodding his own lips with its metallic, bulbous tip. Hank found himself holding his breath as he gazed at the aroused boy on his lap as he ran his lips gingerly along the silver surface of the rod's top, coating them with a gleaming layer of Holy Water before letting them part slightly to let his tongue slip out. Connor slid the pink muscle over the aspergillum, lapping at it and peppering it with open mouth kisses- all while he maintained unbreakable eye contact with Father Anderson. The older male put a stop to Connor's little act when he opened his mouth wider to mimic a blowjob to the metal rod.

Dropping Connor's other arm, he snatched the aspergillum from the younger male and almost threw it as he set it down on the coffee table along with his wine cup- but not before tipping his head back and finishing the remainder of its contents.

Father Anderson had had enough and as Connor was about to demur, he completely shut him up with one sudden, question; the reason why he kept up with his antics for so long.

"What happened to your brother?"

The brunet froze, eyes going wide as he heard those words leave the priest's mouth.

Earlier, as Hank walked down the hallway, he took some time to look at the portraits hanging off the walls. He only had a few seconds to do so but it was enough for him to notice the son that Connor's mother never mentioned to him. There was also one particular photograph that caught his eye- one that had half of it torn off. Connor's family unquestionably had issues. He wasn't sure of how severe they were but for starters, his father was absent or at least, he assumed as much from the fact that he never showed up with the rest of the present family during mass and that there weren't any shoes that could possibly fit the portfolio of someone who could be the brunet's dad. They were all sneakers and slip-ons with a youthful characteristic to them- it didn't really take a fashion expert to notice that they were worn by no one else by Connor.

But the man wasn't interested in the dad.

"Why doesn't your mother ever mention him?" he continues, "Why don't I ever see him with you?"

Connor did what Hank deemed to be unexpected of him- he started to sob. His body shook slightly as he slumped forwards, his gaze far off. Once the first tear rolled down the brunet's rosy cheeks, the rest followed, bursting forth like water from a dam in an unbroken stream down his face. They dripped from his trembling chin and between the two men's laps. Hank didn't speak, didn't move as for the first time he witnessed Connor's fragility behind the confident attitude and plots to try and seduce the older man. This is where he realised that he had been insensitive, acted too brash and inappropriately.

No, he had been acting like that all along.

Hank wanted to apologise, to take back the question so that the other didn't feel obligated to answer it.

"Niles," Connor said, his voice a low whisper as he spoke, hand reaching to his face to wipe his tears with the back of it, "I can tell you about Niles."

"You don't have to if you don't want to," said Hank, his voice warm as he took the other's hands in his own, rubbing circles on them with his thumb in an attempt to soothe the younger male, "It wasn't my place to ask. I think this whole thing has gotten a bit too out of hand. God will forg-"

"This isn't what this is about!" snapped Connor but didn't take his hands away from Hank's, "Fuck that. If anyone should be asking for forgiveness it's not me- it's her, because she's the reason he had to leave, her and her brain-washed beliefs that she could fix him when there was nothing in him to fix!"

Connor was shaking again, this time out of anger rather than sorrow, anxiously nipping at his bottom lip as he sniffed while the last few drops dried up on his tear-streaked cheeks. Hank remained silent, waiting to see if the other would carry on speaking or do something else. He wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or not when Connor decided to continue.

"I'm sorry, it must be the drink," he said, punctuating his sentence with a hiccup, "I didn't mean to go off like that ... I'm not usually like this. It's just, hard. He couldn't take her anymore so he took off. She thinks he's the one bringing shame to this family so she practically disowned him." He paused for a moment as if debating whether he should say his next words or not. "He still comes around sometimes, at night or when she's not here to pick up things he needs. She hasn't removed his things but he hasn't taken everything either. I have no idea where he's living or who he's with."

The older man could feel Connor relax, closing his eyes as he regulated his breathing, calming himself down. He intertwined his fingers with Hank's which the latter allowed him to as a peaceful silence washed over them. Connor leaned forwards, knocking their foreheads together.

"At least he has Gavin with him."

At that moment, Connor might have tried to lean in to close the gap between their mouths, Hank too jarred at what the other had said to react in time and push him away, but the sound of a car engine coming from outside the house stopped the brunet dead in his tracks. A second later, Connor was jumping off from on top of Father Anderson, making a grab for the mugs and wine bottle and bolting towards the kitchen, mumbling swear-words beneath his breath.

Hank blinked, trying to comprehend everything that had just occurred as he stood up, picking up the forgotten aspergillum and examining the damage done to it before fixing his fascia and stashing it in it once more. He could hear the noise of running water coming from what he assumed was the kitchen and the slamming of cabinet doors. A few seconds later, Connor popped up in the living room again, agitated and running around the area to make sure everything was in place. He picked up his tablet which was still running muted gay porn videos and upon realising this, he almost dropped the device as he fumbled to turn it off.

The sound of the front door clicking open sent the brunet in an even more panicked state.

"If she sees that I greeted you wearing this, she'll make a fuss," muttered Connor, gesturing at his top and shorts.

Hank sighed, hand reaching up to fix his collar before running a hand through his hair, patting himself down to make sure his own outfit was in order before starting to make his way towards the hallway.

"Go get dressed, I'll talk to her to keep her distracted," said Hank, giving Connor's figure one last look over. To this, the brunet nodded and sprinted off.

Meanwhile, Father Anderson walked down the corridor to greet Connor's surprised mother, explaining to her that he was doing house visits as he helped her unload the groceries from her car. This process only took a couple of minutes and a handful of painkillers which he promised himself to down the second he got home. Not even what just happened with Connor made him want to rush to his medicine drawer and pop a sheet of pills down his throat to ease the oncoming headache from his mother's yapping. She had no reason to start a lengthy rant about her neighbours but she did anyway.

As soon as the two were back in the house, Connor appeared from the kitchen, dressed in dark sweatpants and a short-sleeved shirt, holding a glass of water. He greeted his mother with a smile on his face- that Hank now knew was forced- before he turned to the priest and handed him the cup.

"Here's your water, Father Anderson," he said, a glint in his eyes, "Sorry it took so long."

* * *

Hank wasn't lying when he said he needed painkillers.

The second he got home, he downed two with a glass of cool cola before making his way to his living room and deposited himself on the sofa, the springs squeaking under his weight. Loosening his collar, he let out a sigh before burying his face in his palms, massaging his temple with his thumbs as he went over the quick exchange of words he had with Connor just before he left his residence.

After Connor's mother said her farewells before retreating back into the house to start putting the groceries away, Hank was left alone with Connor once more. The two shared an awkward gaze at one another as the older man drank the water he had just been given. After that, he cleared his throat as he spoke.

"Best get going," he uttered, giving the now empty glass back to the brunet. The latter nodded, taking the cup.

"You could have left the second I made advances on you but, you didn't ... that in itself speaks great lengths," said Connor, a bashful expression rising to his face as he played with the glass in his hand, fidgeting nervously as he absentmindedly ran his finger along its rim, "Listen I'm ... do you think we can talk about what happened? In better conditions- sober, no wine."

Hank had huffed at him but gave a small nod anyway.

Things had taken an unexpected turn in Hank's plan and now, sitting at home half an hour later, he let go of his resolution of cutting ties with the boy as due to the words spoken in their afternoon and the information they exchanged, it had become impossible to. At least things could have been worse, messier if the older man didn't think fast and quick enough.

Hank grunted as he sat up properly from his sprawled position, and started to unbutton his cassock, starting from the top after undoing the sash from around his waist. Shrugging his clerical garments off, he was left with a dark shirt tucked in his dark trousers. Connor throwing himself over him had twisted his belt around- no wonder he felt a 'hardness' between his legs.

As Hank ran his fingers across the worn leather belt, he looped his fingers around it and adjusted it properly, bringing the holster attached to it to rest over his hip instead of his front. His tired eyes fell to the gun secured in its holder and breathed out exasperatedly.

He needed a drink- a strong one this time.


	16. Niles's Poetics

> "And he called out with a mighty voice, “Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great! She has become a dwelling place for demons, a haunt for every unclean spirit, a haunt for every unclean bird, a haunt for every unclean and detestable beast. For all nations have drunk the wine of the passion of her sexual immorality, and the kings of the earth have committed immorality with her, and the merchants of the earth have grown rich from the power of her luxurious living.” Then I heard another voice from heaven saying, “Come out of her, my people, lest you take part in her sins, lest you share in her plagues; for her sins are heaped high as heaven, and God has remembered her iniquities. ..."
> 
> **-Revelation 18:1-24**


	17. The Number of the Beast

When Niles first met Gavin Reed, he never imagined himself that just a month after he;d be spending his nights curled up against the man shutting out the world outside, as he whispered combination of sweet and dirty words against his ear till the two fell asleep in each other’s arms- let alone running away with him.

Of course, his first impression of him was less than amiable. When Niles first laid eyes on the man, he was sprawled inside the bathtub of his dingy apartment, shoving potato chips in his mouth with one hand and chugging from a questionable carton of milk with the other. Accompanying him in the bath where empty bottles of alcohol, an ashtray overflowing with joint stubs perched on the edge of said tub near his head. 

“You do know it's bad practice for a dealer to make use of his own merchandise, right?” remarked Niles leaning against the door-frame of the room with Rupert by his side. 

Gavin scoffed, a smirk forming on his face as he picked himself up, staggering on his feet before swinging a leg over the edge of the tub, gripping at it with his hands to stop himself from toppling over as he got out of it before turning round to face the other two men.

“Well this one has polite manners,” said Gavin sarcastically, looking at the dark haired man next to Niles, “What is he here for?”

“The usual,” huffed Rupert, rolling his eyes before the two of them directed their gazes to the brunet. 

Rupert had brought it up in conversation after Niles had brought up his mother's latest shit while the two shared a bottle of cheap wine. He had commented how tense Niles always was, how he needed to relax. “I have just the thing for you to loosen up a little,” he had said, “And just the right person to get it from.” 

Now, looking at Gavin, he was questioning his friend's judgement and if he had indeed made an error in calling the man in front of him a reputable and reliable dealer. But Niles’s curiosity had been piqued and with the wish to actually get something of their visit, the need to get high, he remained silent and bit back any more snide remarks that wanted to force themselves out of his mouth. 

Niles took in Gavin’s appearance; a stained shirt and a pair of probably three day old boxers hanging low around his hips. Somehow, the man had meanwhile procured a joint out of who knows where and was currently waving it in front of their faces.

“Ten bucks and she’s all yours,” he said, extending a hand forwards.

“I don’t think I have that much on me,” whispered Niles to Rupert as the other swung an arms over his shoulder, the brunet tensing up on contact.

“It’s okay Niles, I’ll just pay and you can return the favour,” said Rupert, voice falling to a murmur as he brushed his fingers against the other’s neck, moving his hand up to run his thumb over his bottom lip, “Just like the other times, like usual.”

“I can pay for myself,” huffed Niles, stepping out of Rupert’s reach only to knock into Gavin. The latter placed one hand over his hip, steadying him as his lips curled into a smirk.

“Forget the greasy pigeon kid, you could just blow me instead and this won’t cost you a penny,” sneered Gavin, holding the rolled up joint in front of Niles’s face.

Niles narrowed his eyes at Gavin, scowling at the other as he dug out a crumpled five buck note. “As I said, _I have money_ ,”he huffs and Gavin chuckles, shaking his head.

“It’s going to cost you more than that kiddo y’know,” he pointed out.

“I can bring you the rest another time,” said Niles, snatching the hand from his hip and thrusting the money in it before trying to make a grab at the joint between Gavin’s fingers. However, the latter held the joint back and away from Niles.

“That’s not how this works, sweetheart,” he said, furrowing his brows in contemplation for a moment before speaking up again, “Tell you what, I’ll let you have a free taster today, how ‘bout that? Wouldn’t pass up having a cute client such as yourself.”

Niles scowled, grabbing a fistful of Gavin’s shirt, and turned them around to slam him against the door-frame.

“Do _not_ belittle me,” hissed Niles, glaring at the other man’s surprised face before letting him go.

“Feisty,” Gavin murmured, eyes fixed on Niles as he reached over his shoulder to take the lighter Rupert was offering him. He placed the joint between his lips and lit it up, taking a deep puff from it before exhaling it against Niles face. The smell of the drug was pungent but it didn’t bother Niles. Gavin plucked the joint from his mouth and pressed it against Niles’s.

“Here, give it a shot, kid,” he says. Niles takes it from his hand and takes a deep inhale from it, only, the male had never touched even a cigarette in his life so he ended up coughing, much to Gavin’s amusement.

“Looks like someone’s pretty green huh,” he sneered, Niles cocking his head in a questioning manner.

“Means you never did this before and it shows,” explained Gavin as he took a step closer to Niles, their chests almost touching now. He slipped a hand beneath his chin as he spoke again, “Relax a little and open your mouth for me. Let me show you how it’s really done.”

Niles gave him a small nod and ever so slightly parted his lips but his expression didn’t soften up despite the heat creeping up his neck. As Gavin brought the joint to his mouth, Niles’s eyes went from the other man’s grey irises to the raised scar over his nose, his messy brown hair and unkempt shave. After taking a puff, Gavin leaned forwards and pressed his dry lips against Niles’s, opening his mouth to exhale the smoke into Niles’s. This time round, Niles managed to take the hit properly and he immediately felt himself to feel a bit lighter, a bit better.

For a moment, he felt blissed out and didn’t notice the disappearance of Gavin’s hand from his face until he felt it groping his ass. Here, Niles was snapped back into reality, a hand shooting up to grab the wrist still holding the joint and turning the man around to pin it behind his back. Gavin let out a surprised yell, letting out a string of curses as the joint fell from his fingers and on the ground below as his other hand joined the one already against his back. 

“Don’t try shit like that with me,” murmured Niles darkly against his ear, fingers digging into his skin before letting him go once more. As Gavin recovered from what had just happened, Niles crouched down and picked the smoke up, tapping it once before taking a hit.

“Thank you for the sample, I’ll make sure to leave you a good review on Yelp,” said Niles before exiting the room, leaving a shocked Gavin and laughing Rupert behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream at me to update on Tumblr/Twitter @peachtipple. ^^


End file.
